


Double Bind

by uncreatedlight



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Humor, Broody Link, Eventual Romance, Existential Crisis, M/M, Male Sheik, Male Slash, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Game(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Friendship, Time Travel, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncreatedlight/pseuds/uncreatedlight
Summary: Years after Zelda sent him back to his childhood and he slipped into the alternate realm of Termina, Link is visited by an old friend who brings dire news: Hyrule is in trouble--again. With tensions high and timelines colliding, the Hero must once more pick up his sword and save the day.





	1. Prologue

Prologue

_It was happening again. The tremors, the uncontrollable shaking that left him gasping for air. The world was falling apart and nobody knew why. Sheik stumbled through the hallway of Hyrule Castle, his cloth boots slipping across the cracked marble. The floor was slanted now, the structural supports that had held it secure for centuries were finally crumbling. As he ran one of the larger than life statues of a past member of the royal family toppled over, its head breaking off and rolling toward the opposite wall._

_Sheik yanked his cowl down around his neck so that he could breathe easier. The metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth. Gathering all his strength he sprinted down the hall toward the overlarge oaken doors the far end. Just a bit further. He was almost there. Chunks of ceiling rained down, the painted plaster and stone turning the marble different shades of blue and purple and gold._

_Far below him he could still hear people screaming. Their terror drove him onward towards his destination. He ignored the burning pain shooting through his ankle and all the way up to his thigh. The bone was probably broken, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. If he didn’t make it in time the least of his worries would be a shattered ankle._

_From one of the rooms ahead a figure lurched out on shaky legs—one of the royal guardsmen. His uniform was torn and dusty with plaster, one sleeve ripped from shoulder to wrist. Sheik kept his dagger at the ready, giving the man a wide berth and praying to Din that he could pass by unnoticed. But the guardsman wrenched around, bones crackling. A low, gurgling growl rippled through his heaving chest._

_“Shit.”_

_Biting his tongue against the pain in his leg, Sheik gave the dying guardsman no warning. He ran at the man, dagger raised, and plunged the blade into the unseeing yellow eye. The guardsman screeched and clawed helplessly at his chest. Sheik turned away from his rotting breath as he shoved the dagger deeper, until only the hilt remained. He didn’t wait for the man to die, just reclaimed his dagger, jumped over his crumpled body and kept running. The doors were in reach._

_Sheik re-sheathed his dagger and wrapped bloody hands around the intricate brass door handles. The doors caught in the warped frame, and with a groan he pulled with all his remaining energy._

_Inside Zelda was still at her desk, stooped over a thick book. The world was falling apart, and the crown Princes of Hyrule was doing business as usual. Another tremor shook the room and one of her bookcases fell over, the wood splitting against the stone floor. Unflinching Zelda gestured for him to join her._

_“Good, you’re here.” She said calmly, though now that he was closer he could see that her pale hands were shaking as she closed the book. “I don’t have time to explain, so I need to show you, okay?”_

_Sheik nodded his head, and shut his eyes obediently. Zelda held his hands and touched her lips to his forehead before whispering the familiar incantation. Immediately the room twisted and stretched as their minds joined, and Sheik cried out as he felt himself being ripped away from his body. Immense pressure filled his head, Zelda’s magic flowing into him like the waters of Lake Hylia. It was like drowning; no matter how many times they shared magic, he would never fully get used to the sensation._

_“Focus!” Zelda urged him, and he gritted his teeth, trying to block out the chaos. Even in their shared headspace he could feel the rumble and crack of the castle walls falling apart._

_All at once the rumbling stopped. He could no longer feel Zelda’s hands, or the excruciating pain in his leg. Energy hummed around him, blurring the edge of his vision and turning everything the faded rose color of Zelda’s magic, and the deeper blue of his own. For the briefest of moments there was nothing but quiet, and then he cried out as the full force of Zelda’s consciousness invaded his own._

_Vivid images streamed through his mind, too fast to comprehend. But comprehension wasn’t the goal—at least not now. There would be time to understand the information, for now all he could do was keep himself open as Zelda shared her knowledge._

_As quickly as it began it was over. Sheik found himself crashing back into the living world, collapsing under the weight of his own broken body and the bedlam of a universe coming apart at the seams. Zelda held him up, supporting him with steady hands and forcing him to look at her._

_“I’m going to send you away now, Sheik. Remember what I showed you. Find Link. Reclaim the relic. It’s the only way.”_

_“But what about you? What will happen?”_

_Zelda smiled sadly. “I have to stay here. Come to me when you’ve found him. Show me what I showed you. And Sheik…take care of yourself. You can’t do this all on your own.”_

_He wasn’t sure what she meant but he nodded anyways. There was no time to argue, no more time to discuss. He wished they could have just a few more minutes, a few seconds even, but they didn’t. Zelda pressed her open palm to his cheek and smiled again._

_“Goodbye, Sheik.”_

_“Goodbye, Princess.”_


	2. Antimony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night concert, a familiar face in the crowd. He's dreaming, right?

Chapter 1

Link perched on the edge of the stage, guitar balanced on his knees as he tuned it by ear. His back ached from a long day of work in his carpentry shop, and the residual pain from old wounds that had never properly healed. His fighting days were in the past, but his body still bore the scars of broken bones and burnt skin, ligaments torn and improperly repaired, and joints too many times dislocated.

“Playing anything new tonight?” Mr. Barten, owner of Clock Town’s most popular (and only) entertainment venue, asked from behind the milk bar, where he was washing glass mugs.

“Guess you’ll find out, won’t you?” Link winked at the man and plucked two of the strings together, grimacing when the tones clashed. He carefully shifted the pegs until the offending string was in tune. A few more adjustments and the strings all resonated together in harmony. Link strummed a few chords, working his fingers over the frets with ease. On the last chord one of the pegs slipped, and the sound fell flat. Link grunted in annoyance.

“I hope you play better than you tune your instrument, brother.” A stalky Goron with a pack on his back stood before him. Link set aside his guitar and hopped off the stage.

“Finally coming to watch us play?” He asked, grinning ear to ear at his friend. The Goron shrugged—as much as a Goron can shrug, which isn’t much.

“I was in town and thought I’d drop by.” He turned slowly, glancing around the empty bar. “Does that pretty Zora still come around?”

Link laughed merrily, tossing his head back and clapping the Goron on the shoulder.

“You rogue.”

Goro smiled broadly, showing a mouth full of crooked teeth. In the days of the Skull Kid’s reign, when Link had to reset time over and over, Goro unwittingly slept outside of the Stock Pot Inn on the nights when Link stole his room. The Goron’s slow and lumbering nature made him the only guest who hadn’t checked in at the start of the timeline. Link slept elsewhere as much as possible, but the promise of a real bed after battling through a temple filled with monsters was the only thing that kept him moving forward sometimes. Goro didn’t remember those days, but it didn’t stop Link from trying to make it up to him for the past 7 years. Since saving Termina Link had made it his goal to build real friendships with the people he had grown to know, and Goro had been one of the first.

In the early days after returning the moon to the sky, Link realized that many of the people of Termina kept to a regular, predictable schedule. At first he worried he would grow bored, but the monotony and simplicity of the daily activities in Clock Town had given him much needed solace after years of fighting.

At night he still dreamt of maze-like temples and dungeons, strange monsters around every corner, and the vengeful dead thirsty for life. Sometimes even when he was awake he would become suddenly lost in his thoughts, caught up in memories of his old life—swords clashing, fire burning through his clothes and skin, water so deep he could never reach the surface, enemies that tore him apart again and again. It was difficult having nobody to talk to about these memories, but he had friends, he had a place to stay, and he had his job as a carpenter. That solidity gave him enough peace to get through each day.

Goro settled in at the bar to order a glass of milk—the drink of choice in Termina—and Link went back to tuning his guitar. He was always the first member of the band to arrive. Since he lived next door in the hotel, it was a quick walk down to the cantina. The other members of the Indigo-Gos were Zoras, who had to travel all the way from the Great Bay. Link enjoyed this leisurely time, watching people trickle slowly in, buying drinks and sitting down at tables to wait for the music to start.

A flash of auburn caught his eye. Across the room a young woman was pushing open the door, struggling under the weight of a crate filled with bottles of milk from Lon Lon Ranch. Link jumped down from the stage once more and rushed to her aid.

“Oh thank you, Link!” Romani smiled warmly as he took the crate from her, carrying it effortlessly to the bar. She looked around, clearly out of her element. Her place was at the ranch, not in town.

“How are you? How’s your sister?” Link asked, returning from the bar. He grabbed her hand and led her over to the stage before she could answer, and gestured for her to sit beside him. As she told him about the state of the farm and the new calves that had been born last month, Link found himself once again marveling over how similar she was to a girl he had known long ago in Hyrule. The dark red hair, the sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks, even the way she clasped her hands together nervously as she spoke. She was the closest thing he had to home.

At 5 o’clock the other members of the band came in, carrying their equipment and instruments. They greeted Romani politely, and she slipped off the stage to take a seat at one of the tables. Link was happy to see that she was staying for the music—she almost always left after dropping off her delivery.

By the time they had set up everything, the room was filled with people. Romani looked uncomfortable until the owners of the Stock Pot Inn, Anju and her husband Kafei, sat down with her and struck up a conversation. Link was grateful to them, and smiled at Anju when he caught her eye. She winked back at him, and he guessed that she knew exactly how out of place Romani must feel, surrounded by townspeople who she barely knew. After all, Anju herself had been painfully shy at one time.

The first song was one of the Indigo-Go’s regular tunes, a ballad written by the original owner of Link’s guitar. It was a sentimental homage to the Zora, Mikau. More than any other song they played, Link felt most connected to Mikau when he played this song. If he closed his eyes, he could remember what it was like to walk in the Zora’s skin, gliding quickly though the depths of the ocean. Of all the masks he wore during his mission to save Termina, it was Mikau’s he missed the most.

They played a few more songs, including a bawdy sailor’s song that made Romani hide her face in embarrassment, and then segued into their new pieces.

Halfway through the first one, Link noticed someone new in the audience. He wasn’t sure when he had slipped into the bar, but he’d recognize those intense red eyes anywhere.

Sheik.

He was no longer clad in the form fitting blue and white uniform, and the red eye of the Sheikah was missing from his chest. But even in a loose tunic the color of saffron he could still recognize the slender shape and lithe muscle of the man who was once his guide in the loneliest of quests.

The white cowl was the same, though it looked dusty and tattered. As always, his messy blonde hair couldn’t be contained by the cloth.

Link felt like he might be sick.

A nudge at his side brought him back to reality. His band mate glared at him, and Link realized he had forgotten his solo. When he focused his attention on the audience again, Sheik was gone.

The band stayed long into the night, taking requests and playing favorites several times over. The room grew loud and raucous as milk flowed freely. He lost count of the rupees that were thrown into the basket at the edge of the stage, but he knew there was a sizable amount. It was a lucrative night for both the band and Mr. Barten.

They finished around 2am. Link helped the band take down the set, and said farewell to the guests before heading over to the hotel. He was exhausted. His muscles ached from working all day at the shop, and playing all night in the bar, but it was good to be busy.

By the time his head hit the pillow, he’d forgotten about Sheik.

* * *

 

 “Wake up, Hero.”

He bolted upright in bed and grabbed for his sword, but it wasn’t there. He’d stopped keeping his sword beneath his pillow years ago, but the reflex to reach for it when he woke in the middle of the night never completely faded. A deep chuckle sounded in the darkness of his room.

Link squinted, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Sheik was sitting at the far end of his bed, one foot on the edge, the other planted on the creaky hard wood floor.

“Where’s my sword?” Link said, disoriented, his voice thick with sleep.

Sheik laughed again, and the familiar sound made his chest hurt. This couldn’t be real.

“Good to see you still have your priorities straight. I thought you might have gone soft. Not that I minded the music…rock star is a good look on you.” Even with his face covered, Link could tell Sheik was smiling at him.

Except that Sheik wasn’t Sheik. He was Zelda in disguise. Link had taken the reveal hard enough 8 years ago, the betrayal ultimately leading him to the decision to leave Hyrule. Seeing Zelda in Sheik’s guise once more pulled at the thread of that old wound.

He wrapped his arms around his knees and closed his eyes.

“This is a dream. I’m dreaming. You’re not real.”

A gentle hand warmed his bare shoulder and Link flinched.

“Fate has not been kind to you, has it?” Sheik’s voice was softer this time, the mirth gone.

“Why are you here?” Link said into his knees, unwilling to face those red eyes, brilliant even in the dark.

There was a pause, and he almost raised his head to see if the phantom Sheik had gone, but the hand still remained on his shoulder. It felt real. Link’s gut twisted uncomfortably.

“Link, I am not Zelda.”

“No, because you’re a dream. You’re not real. Sheik—Zelda is back in Hyrule, ruling her kingdom.” Link’s shoulders began to shake. He’d had waking dreams before, hallucinations of old people, old monsters, even Ganondorf on very bad nights. But this felt different, and he’d seen Sheik earlier in the bar, when he was fully awake. There’s no way it could be real, and yet…

“She is, and I am here. We are not the same. I am so sorry for misleading you, but it was necessary at the time. I was not supposed to be known, even to you.”

Suddenly angry, Link shoved the hand off his shoulder and jumped up from the bed, stumbling around in the darkened room.

“What are you looking for?”

“Sword.”

“Why?”

“To make you go away.”

That same low laugh filled his head and Link swore angrily, earning an irritated bang on the wall from his neighboring tenant.

Shaking, Link sat down on the floor with his legs crossed and tried to breathe evenly. He was light-headed and his body hurt even worse than before he fell asleep. He would have to take tomorrow off; nights like this were always sleepless. He could feel the panic rising in his chest as he closed his eyes and tried to count to 100, ignoring the presence behind him, still lounging on his bed.

A rustle of cloth and Sheik was kneeling before him now, close enough that Link could feel the warmth of his breath on his face. He smelled of spice and sweat and earth.

Link opened his eyes, startled. He’d forgotten that smell.

“I am sorry, Hero.” The sorrow in Sheik’s words was so intense, so unquestionably genuine. Overwhelmed by the familiar scent and the emotion that lingered in the air, Link’s lungs were quickly restricting, his breath coming in short staccato gasps. _This isn’t real. I’m dreaming. Or I’m awake, and my mind is playing cruel tricks on me. In a few minutes this will go away. I’ve been here before._

Sheik leaned in, and his body tensed in anticipation; it was becoming increasingly more difficult to draw breath. By the lightness in his head and confusion of his thoughts, he knew he was in danger of passing out—which at this point could be a blessing. But then Sheik raised two fingers and pressed them lightly to the center of Link’s forehead.

There was a bright flash that transformed everything into white light. Heat spread through him like sunlight, flooding his veins and stilling his breath and racing heart. His skin tingled with electricity, and there was a taste of honey and something else on his tongue. He felt like he had swallowed summer.

“What was that?” He asked. Words came easier—the tightness in his chest was gone.

“Magic. You are far too wound up for someone living as a carpenter in a small town.”

Link turned away and ran calloused hands through his dark blonde hair, which was drenched with sweat.

“You can drop the act, Zelda.” He said. The panic was gone, but the buzz was also fading quickly, leaving him tired and weary, the way he always felt after his panic spells. Except that he no longer hurt—the pain was completely gone from his body. If this was an illusion or a dream, it was a very good one.

But even if this was real, he could not accept that Sheik wasn’t Zelda. He had relied on blind faith as a child, and while he understood to some extent Zelda’s desire to hide her identity, realizing the truth had felt akin to betrayal. Though he left Hyrule on good terms with the princess, he knew he could never trust her again. Or anyone, for that matter. It left too much room for disappointment.

“You do not believe that I am telling the truth,” Sheik said softly, his voice sad.

“No, I don’t.”

“What must I do to convince you?”

Link’s gaze flickered to the old cowl that obscured Sheik’s face. It had always bothered him because it made his expressions unreadable, but now he found that he hated it, for the lie it represented.

Whether it was his own will influencing the dream, or the real Sheik reading his thoughts, he wasn’t certain. Either way with hands well-practiced, Sheik unwrapped the veil from around his face so that it hung loose over his thin shoulder. He left the portion that covered the crown of his head, and his pale blonde hair stuck out messily from below the worn cloth.

Link’s mouth fell open. The face before him was not the masked face of a princess in disguise. Beyond the familiar red eyes lined with kohl was a person he had never seen before, all sharp angles and gentle curves, full lips quirked up in an amused smile, an angled jaw and high cheekbones. Link had the sudden impulse to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was real, to understand who this strange person was.

“You’re not Zelda.”

Sheik’s smirk became a grin that made his entire face glow with amusement.

“No, Hero. I am not Zelda. I am Sheik. Ward of Impa, and last of the Sheikah.”

“How…” Link stuttered, not sure what he was trying to say. He was still staring at his old friend, stuck on the realization that Sheik was not only a real, autonomous person, but currently sitting in his room.

“How did you find me here? Why did you leave Hyrule?”

The Sheikah’s smile faded. To Link’s disappointment, he wrapped the cowl back around his face, pulling it just below his red eyes. Link wondered if having his face bare made him feel vulnerable. The thought of Sheik feeling self-conscious in any situation was difficult to comprehend. But then, the realization that his friend was not actually the alter ego of the crown princess was just as equally incomprehensible.

Sheik rocked backward onto his heels and stood gracefully from the floor, and for a moment Link worried he was leaving. Instead he began pacing, his gaze vague and unfocused, brow furrowed. For the first time Link noticed the weary slope of his shoulders, the shadows beneath his eyes. Now that he had overcome denial that this wasn’t a hallucination, he could question the reason for Sheik’s visit. It was selfish to assume the Sheikah had sought him out in the spirit of friendship. Unsure whether he should prompt him again, or ask what was wrong, or do anything other than sit dumbly on the floor, Link watched his friend brush a finger along the edge of his wooden bureau and wondered what was going through his mind. After a while Sheik spoke.

“When Zelda returned you to your childhood the Sacred Realm remained closed. Nobody in all the kingdoms knew that they had been saved from a grim fate aside from the sages, the guardians of the forest, and the three of us. We who remembered were grateful for the restoration of peace and celebrated our success, and Lord Ganon retreated to the desert in defeat. With your absence, he had no access to the Ocarina of Time and no way of retrieving the spiritual stones that are the keys to the Door of Time. Foolishly, we believed we had won.

But…several years after your disappearance Ganon returned. In our complacency we had allowed ourselves to believe that he had given up, but in time it was revealed that during the years of Hyrule’s peace, Ganon had travelled to many kingdoms and gathered an army of evil men—enemies of the King. They were small in numbers, but ferocious warriors who wielded dangerous magic.

As Hyrule prepared, Zelda, Impa and I created our own plan. We knew that Hyrule would never survive a war against Ganon and his army. So with their help and protection I infiltrated the enemy camp on the night before the first battle, and murdered Ganon while he slept.

“You killed him?”

“…Yes. I killed him. When dawn—“

“But how?”

The Sheikah stared unblinking at him, body rigid with irritation, veiled head tilted slightly. When Link asked no more questions, he continued his story.

“Dawn broke and Ganon’s men found him dead in his tent. Argument over who would take over his command of the army escalated to violence and soon the men turned on each other; many of them were from kingdoms that were already at war, and they had only come together in fear and awe of the man who they believed to be an immortal god. The chaos lasted until well after the sun had reached its midpoint in the sky. When the light of day began to die, the army had destroyed itself.

Once again we thought that Hyrule was safe. But during the night some of the men, mercenaries with no loyalties to any kingdom or crown, stole into Castle Town and Kakariko Village. They slaughtered many innocent people, and stole everything they could carry. The loss was devastating.”

“That’s…terrible.” Link said. “But this was years ago now, wasn’t it? Surely Hyrule has had time to mourn its dead and rebuild what was broken.” He knew the words were heartless as soon as they tumbled from his clumsy mouth. But they were true, too. Why would Sheik come to him years after a tragedy like this? There was nothing he could do.

“Unfortunately that is not where the trouble ends. The destruction Ganon’s men caused was irreparable, but Hyrule is nothing if not a resilient kingdom. The Zoras and Gorons, even the Gerudo women from the desert came to our aid. We began to rebuild, and slowly hope returned.

But then things…changed.”

“Changed…?”

Sheik was quiet for a moment, his head bent. But then he turned his gaze back to Link, and there was sorrow in his red eyes.

“Link, when Zelda sent you back in time after defeating Ganon she did not erase the time of his reign—she created a new reality, where you never opened the Door of Time in first place. That other time where you fought to awaken the sages and defeat Ganon still exists. Zelda knew this would happen and chose to take the risk so that she could give you your childhood back. Unfortunately in doing so, a third reality was created—one in which you failed, and Ganon won.

Those realities should have remained separate, each independent from the other. But time is a fickle and complicated thing, difficult to control and even more difficult to predict. When you played the Ocarina here in Termina, time itself became unstable and fractured.”

“Why would Hyrule be affected by what happened here in Termina?’

The Sheikah stopped pacing and turned toward him, eyes narrowed, red irises burning through the dark of the room. Link felt very small under that intense stare, like a student who has just asked a very stupid question. But then his gaze softened, and with a sigh he sat down on the foot of Link’s bed once more, leaning forward to rest his chin on the heel of his hand. It was amazing how abruptly the man could switch from well-trained warrior to tired youth. For all his confidence, he couldn’t be much older than Link, though with time travel, age had begun to feel arbitrary.

“I forget sometimes that you have not studied the history of the realms, but rather lived at the mercy of those laws. Zelda and I were taught well by Impa, who believed it crucial that we have a full understanding of how our worlds overlap and connect.”

“Worlds...?” Link asked again.

“Termina and Hyrule are separate, and yet immutably intertwined. Like siblings they function independently from each other. But because they are joined, what happens in one impacts the other.

Link thought about this for a while, worrying his bottom lip and furrowing his brow, trying to understand this new revelation, fitting it like a puzzle piece into his broken understanding of the universe.

“You look so like your young self.” Startled, Link looked up, meeting the scarlet gaze of the Sheikah, who must have been staring at him while he processed. He felt his cheeks warm and he was thankful for the darkness of the room.

“So when I used the Ocarina of Time here, it affected Hyrule as well.”

“In simple terms. Although you are the Hero who is destined to travel through time, the many thousands of iterations you repeated here in this land created an infinite number of fluctuations, subtle changes in time that disrupted the natural flow of reality.”

Sheik fell silent now. Link dragged himself off the floor, using the bedpost to guide him, and sat beside his friend. Recalling Sheik’s earlier gesture, Link laid a tentative hand on his knee. He felt an unexpected thrill with the contact, reinforcement that he was real, sitting close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Sheik jumped with surprise.

“Why are you here?” Link asked quietly.

Sheik fixed him with such an intense stare that Link felt trapped. Now that he knew what lay beneath the old cowl was not the hidden face of Zelda, he disliked the cloth even more. Not only because it obscured Sheik’s face and made it difficult to understand what he was thinking, but because for the first time he had seen him as something other than a wise and noble guardian, devoid of such lowly things as emotion. Previously Link had always felt out of his depth when he spoke with Sheik. The cryptic rhymes, the shared music, it was exciting, but also intimidating. Because in those days he was still a novice, only recently removed from his childhood in the forest, unpracticed in conversation and human interaction. Sheik’s accent, his confidence in body and speech, had left Link acutely aware of just how young and inexperienced he was, and terribly afraid of his role in the grand scheme of the Goddesses’ plans.

But now they sat beside each other, on equal footing so to speak. They had both grown and changed, and it was clear in the set of Sheik’s shoulders and the weariness in his eyes that he had been through much in the past years since they had last seen each other, when Link was left to believe that Sheik was merely a shadow, an alternate identity, rather than his own self.

Now that he knew that the person he had become friends with so long ago was real, he wanted to rip away that cowl and speak to him as equals. To see what worry looked like on his face, so that Link could understand the gravity of what was happening. This wasn’t a meeting between quests, an exchange of magical songs and guidance. Sheik was a messenger still, but when he spoke that air of mysticism was gone and his voice held the coarse timber of someone who had been fighting for far too long, for a goal they might never achieve.

“I need you to leave this place, and return with me to Hyrule. Help us to restore balance to the timeline, and bring peace back to the kingdom.”

Link re-focused, his stomach twisting. He should have seen that coming. He did, in a way, but hearing it spoken out loud…

“No.” He said firmly. His hands tremored as the ghosts of his past streamed through his mind, battles alone in forests and mountains, scalding fire and the bite of ice. Demons that fell from ceilings, that wrapped themselves around him and eagerly stole his life force until he had no strength to fight.

Sheik’s expression was unreadable.

“You must understand…Termina is not safe. Eventually the protection you have given the land will fade, and destruction will follow.”

Gentle pressure on the back of his hand reminded him that it was still on Sheik’s leg. Link pulled away as if Sheik’s touch burned him.

The panic from earlier re-surfaced, and Link stood, rubbing sweaty palms on his pants. He wanted to go, to run somewhere, anywhere. To the mountains, or the ocean, or even the godforsaken canyon. He wanted to be anywhere but here in the darkness of his small rented room, talking to a ghost from his past. He would not go to Hyrule. He couldn’t. It would destroy him.

“I need to sleep. Please leave.”

“Link…” The sadness in the Sheikah’s voice broke his heart. Link clenched his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms, and took measured breaths, trying to control the emotion whirling in his chest.

“Please. Leave.” He warned, voice shaking.

“But—“ The dam burst, and Link spun around in a burst of raw energy, fire, and rage.

“LEAVE ME ALONE.” He shouted. His neighbor pounded on the wall once more, but he ignored the sound. “I came here to get away from Hyrule, from quests and missions I never wanted to do in the first place. I came here so that I could find peace, and do you know what I found? Another fucking kingdom about to be destroyed. I re-lived the same day hundreds of times, fighting for people who didn’t know me. I chose who to save, and who to let die. More times than I can count I watched the moon fall, watched people run in terror from a monster they couldn’t escape. And when I finally fixed things, finally dealt with that bratty forest kid, I made a vow to never do this again. I’m done. I’m done saving people. I’m done being the hero, pretending I’m strong when all I feel is weak and tired.”

The rage flowed out, leaving him gasping for air. Link began to lose his footing, and just as his legs buckled Sheik was there, holding him up, guiding him back to the bed. He wanted to yell at Sheik, to kick and punch like a child, to tell him to leave, to stop being so kind so that he could feel properly justified in his anger. But Sheik just sat with him, arms around his shoulders as that anger turned to something else.

No pride left in his body, Link sobbed into his friend’s chest, all of the old wounds re-opening, all of the pain of the past years surfacing. The pain he had borne alone, unable to confide in the people of Clock Town, who had no idea how much he had done for them, how much he had done for the kingdom of Hyrule. He had been alone for so long, he had forgotten what it was like to have someone who understood that same pain.

But even as Sheik comforted him, speaking gentle words in another language, the question still lingered in the air. Link wanted to hate him for dragging him back into peril again, asking him to stand on shaky legs and fight new uncertainties and unknown demons, but this was Sheik, who had never been anything but a loyal friend.

“I need to think.” Link choked out after he was too exhausted to cry anymore. “I can’t…not…not right now. I need time.”

“We all do, Hero. We always need more time.” He guided Link back to his pillow, his fingertips brushing hair from his eyes, and again pressing against the center of his forehead. Link was filled with that same warmth once more, and he sighed with relief.

“I will return tomorrow. Rest, Hero.”


	3. Sway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Should he stay or should he go?

Link woke early. Despite his efforts to reclaim unconsciousness, he was overwhelmed with the events of the previous night and all of the unresolved trauma that had resurfaced with a vengeance.

Sheik’s distinct smell still lingered in the room, a tangible reminder that their conversation had not been a dream, but rather the exact opposite.

For the first time in years, Link was entertaining the possibility of going back to Hyrule. He’d always hoped that if that day came, it would be out of a sense of homesickness. He should have known that he couldn’t be so lucky. He was the Hero of Time, destined to serve the goddesses, to set aside his own peace of mind to protect the realms from destruction. For all their power, it was endlessly mystifying that they were unable to create something that wasn’t doomed from the start. It made him wonder if they weren’t actually sadistic puppeteers, pulling the strings of their creations, orchestrating terror and mayhem for their own cosmic pleasure.

Before risking being struck down for blasphemy, Link groaned and slid out of bed. Years of working in Clock Town and battling his past had taught him that the best remedy for brooding was productivity.

As he pulled his plain white tunic over his head—he would never wear green again—Link noticed that the usual pain in his muscles, the result of countless injuries that never quite healed properly, was gone. He hadn’t felt like this since before he entered the Deku Tree so long ago, beginning his path as the hero. Testing his range of motion he stretched his arms above his head, twisted his body, reached down and touched his toes. The sharp twinge in his knee, broken in a battle with a Lizalfos, the stiffness in his left Achilles tendon, courtesy of a Gerudo guard’s blade, the dull ache in his shoulder left over from the countless ReDeads he’d struggled against—all were gone. Even his breathing came easier, his heart beat stronger.

Whatever Sheik did last night had healed him completely.

Trying not to think too much about the implications of this and the fact that he was now more or less indebted to the Sheikah, Link yanked on his boots, tightened his belt around his waist, and headed downstairs to the hotel lobby.

“Oh Link! Wait a second!” Anju called to him just as he was opening the door. Startled out of his reverie, Link returned to the desk. She handed him a slip of paper that had been neatly folded into quarters.

_Link, I have several things I must do today. Please meet me outside the East Gate at sundown._

The note was signed with the Sheikah eye symbol.

Must he always be so cryptic?

Link folded the note up and stuffed it in his satchel, mind a storm of irritation and curiosity as he headed out of the hotel. What did Sheik want to tell him? He honestly felt bad for the way he shouted last night, but he was still resolved to resist leaving Termina. A voice at the back of his head told him it was a futile resistance, but he was nothing if not stubborn, and had no intentions of changing.

He waved hello to Honey and Darling as they walked hand in hand with their squealing toddler, and greeted the postman with a nod as he ran by. The town was alive with activity as usual this afternoon, and Link’s gloominess began to shrink.

“You sure you don’t want to bring a sword out there?” The Western guard frowned as he approached the gate, a stern expression on his face that made Link laugh. It was the same argument they had every time he left the town, and while he was sure the guard was genuinely concerned for him, they both knew he could take care of himself.

“I’m very sure, Jim. I wouldn’t deny you the pleasure of saying ‘I told you so’ if I got attacked out there.”

The old leader of the Bomber Secret Society of Justice crossed his arms over his broad chest, mock appraising him as if judging his worthiness. Finally he tipped his head and stepped aside.

“Stay safe out there, guy.” “Always am, Jim.”

* * *

 

The bay was calm today, and Link stopped at the edge of the surf to take in the sight of the waves brushing the shore. The wind was salty with sea spray. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of the mist on his skin, tanned from years spent working under the Termina sun.

As he watched the gulls fight over fish in the distance, his conversation with Sheik came to the forefront of his mind again. He was resolute in his stance to stay in Termina, where he had finally reached happiness. It made him sad to think this may be the last time he saw the ocean.

Banishing the thought, Link trudged up the beach to the old abandoned Oceanside house that stood empty beside the local fisherman’s hut.

Long ago the “spider” house, as the Zoras dubbed it, had been infested with the ghosts of a captain and his cursed soldiers, as well as the usual creepy crawlies that seemed to flock to cursed places. Today the place was clear of skulltulas and stalchildren and the like, which was good, because Link was in no mood to do battle with the dead. He had a different goal in mind.

Within the house was the oldest library in Termina. It was filled with dusty old tomes, many of which had been stricken with mold and were all but ruined. After clearing the house Link had returned several times and browsed the books, but he had never been much of a reader, so he inevitably lost interest.

Today, however, was different. He needed information. And if he could find answers anywhere, it would be here in the library. In theory, anyways. He had no idea even what to look for once he got there, and he doubted it would be as simple as finding a book titled What to do When You Play a Magic Ocarina Too Many Times. His basic plan was to search for any book that mentioned Hyrule in the title. That seemed a good enough way of identifying the connection between the two realms.

The house was as dusty and decrepit as he remembered. Spiderwebs hung from the ceiling, and broken or overturned furniture lay everywhere. The air was rank with the odor of decay.

Careful not to touch anything, Link ascended the staircase and headed toward the library.

After several hours of searching by candlelight, Link had flipped through a stack of books about Termina’s history, but with no luck. His eyes were beginning to burn. Dejected, he walked over to the dining room, sat down at the head of the table, and rested his head on his forearm. He felt stupid for coming here, for guessing that anyone outside of Zelda herself would know anything about parallel worlds and time travel. The dread and gloom began to creep into him again, darkening his thoughts and dragging him down like a physical force. He sighed, closing his eyes and fighting the heaviness of sleep.

A pungent stench flooded his nose and Link nearly gagged. Immediately vigilant, he grabbed a steak knife from the table and jumped up from the chair, keeping his back to the wall. He knew the smell of decaying flesh.

“I know what you are looking for.” A feminine voice whispered in his ear and he gasped. A small girl, hardly 12, appeared before him, a finger to her little mouth. She smiled, her dark eyes twinkling in the light of the fireplace. She had pale blonde hair gathered into a braid, and her clothing looked very different from that of traditional Terminian garb. Was she a ghost?”

Link took a deep breath. He’d faced worse than a 12 year old dead girl in his life time.

“What am I looking for?”

She giggled brightly and ran around the table, her feet not quite touching the ground. The smell of decayed flesh followed her as she ran. Link saw that her back was covered in blood, though he couldn’t tell what the nature of the wound was. Finally she hopped up on the table and ran towards him, stopping right at the edge, dainty feet brushing the moldy table cloth. She only had one shoe.

“You’re from Hyrule.”

Link nodded slowly, and the little girl clapped her hands merrily, as if they were playing some game that was known only to her.

“My mommy is from Hyrule too.” She whispered, raising a finger to her mouth again. “But you can’t tell a soul, okay? Because they’ll get us if they find out.”

“Who will?”

The little girl laughed.

“I can’t tell you silly. Why don’t you guess?”

Link stared at her. Of all the things he thought he’d be doing today, arguing with a small dead child was not one of them.

“Okay…the soldiers?” He hazarded a guess, remembering the ghosts that once inhabited the dining room.

The girl shook her head slowly.

“The Zoras?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Well then I have no idea. Why don’t you tell me? I can’t help you unless I know who’s after you.”

The girl’s eyes widened, and she giggled again. The laughter was shrill and amplified Link’s headache.

“Silly boy,” She said in her tiny voice. “You fancy yourself a hero. Tell me now, hero. What are you going to do now that the Sheikah has returned and everything is starting again? Are you ready to run off to war? Or are you going to cower in your bed like the weak man you’ve become?”

Link was dumbfounded.

“Ask me who killed me.” The girl growled, baring her teeth, leaning forward over the edge of the table so that they were nose to nose. Link tried not to breathe; the stench of death was overwhelming.

“Who killed you?” “You did. You screwed up the timeline by coming here. You made everything bad at home. You turned us into monsters Your selfishness doomed all of us.”

With a jolt, Link woke up. He was still sitting in the library, draped over an open book about early Terminian folklore. Snapping the book shut and not bothering to put it back, Link grabbed his satchel and fled the spider house.

Disappointed, he left the great bay in fumes, feeling watched the entire way back to the broad expanse of field that encircled Clock Town and separated the different regions.

Stuck once more in a head spinning with thoughts of ghosts and demons and destiny, he didn’t realize until he was halfway there that he had headed in the direction of Lon Lon Ranch.

* * *

 

He found Romani and Cremia in the barn, milking cows. The two sisters were overjoyed to see him, and Romani ran to him with her arms open. Link wrapped his own arms around her waist and picked her up, spinning in circles with her until she was laughing, auburn hair flying wildly. Cremia covered up her own laughter with a freckled hand. The two of them looked very similar, like copies of the same person at different ages. But they also looked like Malon, whom until yesterday Link had accepted he would never speak to again. Gently bringing Romani back to earth, Link looked at both of them, wondering who he would miss more, them or Malon, and hating himself for even having to ask.

“What are you doing here, Link? Shouldn’t you be at the shop today?” Romani asked, running her fingers through her tangled hair, messy from spinning.

“He’s leaving…aren’t you?”

Link stared at Cremia, confused. There was something about her expression, the softness of her eyes and the set of her jaw that told him she knew. But how?

Romani glared at her sister, spinning around furiously so that her dress twirled around her ankles. Link couldn’t help but smile.

“Don’t be stupid.” She hissed, but Cremia ignored her.

“I had a dream.” Cremia said softly, walking over to Romani and Link at the entrance to the barn. “A few nights ago. You were leaving Termina with a man shrouded in cloth. He wasn’t from here. He…” She paused, looking embarrassed. “He had red eyes. I know it sounds strange but it felt so real.”

Link was quiet, taken aback by her words, but not totally unsurprised. His whole life was based on dreams and prophecies after all. And Cremia had always been intuitive. Several times he’d considered telling her his history before, the story of Clock Town and the moon, as well as his life in Hyrule. Now he wished he had.

One of the horses snorted loudly, and Cremia went to console it, running a gentle hand over its nose and whispering words of comfort. Link remembered last night, when Sheik had done the same for him.

“So. Are you going to visit us?” Cremia asked, smiling at him. Her expression was open and friendly, but he could tell she was sad, certain that he was going to leave—more sure of his path than he himself was.

“I…haven’t decided yet. If I’m leaving.” Link said, and Romani gasped, her disbelief of her sister’s dream shattered.

“But…you can’t leave. You have your shop, and you have the Indigo-Go’s, and…and…” Her voice broke, and he knew the unspoken word. _Us_.

“Where will you go?” Cremia asked, still turned away, rubbing the horse’s nose as it snorted happily into her shoulder.

Link kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot, avoiding Romani’s betrayed expression.

“Hyrule.”

This day was full of surprises.

Cremia shrugged, giving the horse a final pat on the nose before going to grab the pails of milk she and Romani had filled. Link followed her, grabbing a shoulder pole off its hook by the entryway. He balanced the wooden pole over his shoulders, and Cremia hung the pails on either end.

“It was in the dream.” Cremia continued, grabbing the other two pails by their ropes and carrying them. Romani trailed behind them, arms crossed and face downcast. Link felt terrible, but he didn’t know what to tell her. He couldn’t promise that he was going to stay. Last night, sitting with her on the stage in the bar, seemed years ago. In less than a day everything had changed.

“You were going somewhere called Hyrule. I couldn’t place the name but it felt very familiar. When I woke, I remembered the stories my mother used to tell me about another land that existed beyond ours. It was created by three goddesses, like ours, and protected by a hero in green clothes.”

“She must have been from Hyrule.” Link thought back to the little ghost girl in the spider house. He could have spared himself that creepy experience if he had just told Cremia from the beginning.

“I always thought they were fairy stories, the sort of thing parents tell their children. So…does that mean you’re the hero?”

Link readjusted the pole over his shoulders, marveling over the new strength in his muscles and joints.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“That must be a terrible burden.”

Cremia’s voice was full of the compassion of an older sister who had spent her life worrying about others. Link turned to smile at her, and tripped over a rock hidden in the long grass. He stumbled but managed to stay on his feet and reclaim his balance, milk sloshing over the edges of the swinging pails. Cremia laughed, and pretty soon even Romani joined.

The sisters begged him to stay for supper, and finally Link relented when he realized he hadn’t eaten all day. It had been a long time since he’d had a real meal, not something grabbed from a vendor on the way to or home from work. He savored every bite of roast Cucco, cornbread, and yam stew, and gladly accepted seconds of apple cobbler for desert. As comfortable as he had gotten in Termina, moments like this made Link more aware of how solitary his life still was. He’d made friends, but at the end of the day he was living in a rented room with nothing but a few sets of clothes and an unused sword.

“Will we see you again?” Romani asked after dinner. She passed Link a newly washed plate, and he dried it with a towel embroidered with the Lon Lon Ranch brand. While eating they’d dropped talk about prophecies and long trips to another world in favor of mundane conversation about recent goings on around the ranch and Clock Town, and the new music that the Indigo-Gos had played the previous night.

“I’m not sure,” He admitted. “But I hope so.” He smiled at her, and she blushed, averting her gaze.

“I don’t want you to leave.” She admitted, passing him a serving bowl. “I know it’s your home, and if your people are in trouble, you should go to them. But...I’ll miss you.” She looked up at him, and her blue eyes were filled with tears.

Link knew Romani harbored feelings for him. He’d known for a long time. It made sense—they more or less grew up together. After the year of the Skull Kid’s reign Link had often visited the ranch to get away from the day to day chaos of Clock Town. Until he opened the carpentry shop, Cremia had sometimes even paid him to do odd jobs around the ranch, milking cows, repairing fences, corralling Cuccos.

Age was relative in Link’s mind. He’d been an adult before, and while puberty was a nuisance, he knew what to expect on the other side. In many ways he was older than Romani when they first met, despite his appearance as a 12 year old boy. So when Romani turned 15 and began worrying about her hair and blushing scarlet when he smiled at her, their relationship shifted. For the first time Link saw how young she truly was, how inexperienced. He loved her, but he could not return her affection. She was kind hearted and compassionate and one of his favorite people in the world, and yet there was a distance between them that could never be breached. He may be a simple carpenter today, but for most of his life he had essentially been a lone soldier to the crown, and to the goddesses. He’d seen things that would send Romani running, horrors that were still very much alive in his mind. He could never ask her to share that weight.

Link stooped down to kiss Romani’s freckled cheek, and wrapped his arms around her as he had in the barn earlier in the day. At first she was stiff, but slowly relaxed and buried her face in his chest.

“I promise I’ll come back. I don’t know when, but I will.”

“You can’t know that, though.”

He pulled away and looked down at her, smiling with a confidence he didn’t feel.

“I promise. Okay? I don’t break my promises.”

She sniffed and wiped at her teary face, dried her palms on her apron.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She said, smiling up at him.

Outside on the porch, Cremia presented him with a bag packed with small bottles of milk and food that could last several days if rationed carefully.

“Best be prepared,” She said soberly with a serious look that made Link wonder if she’d left anything out about the dream she had.

“Thank you.” He accepted the bag gratefully, throwing the strap over his shoulder with his leather satchel.

Link said goodbye to his friends, and walked away from the warm light spilling out from the ranch house.


	4. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Link has a nightmare.

The sun had already slipped below the horizon and the stars were glittering across a cloudless sky. High above the moon shown silvery yellow, a beautiful but formidable reminder of the battle he fought long ago with the Skull Kid.

Sheik’s note had said to meet by the East gate at sundown, which was at least an hour ago. Confident that the Sheikah would wait for him, Link nonetheless doubled his speed up the dusty road.

The day had been filled with the unexpected. He’d planned on not even leaving bed, but instead found himself in a haunted library, and eating dinner with his friends for what might be the last time. 

He’d left Clock Town resolved to fight Sheik all the way to the forest portal into Hyrule, but instead as he crossed the broad expanse of moonlit field, he realized that he no longer had any fight left. With a bag filled with rations and a head spinning with questions, Link knew that every step he took toward the town was a step he took toward Hyrule.

The East gate was empty when he arrived. Link sat down at the edge of the stone steps to wait for Sheik to reveal himself. Wind blew from Ikana canyon, the oldest region of Termina, and the one area Link had not returned to since defeating the Skull Kid. While the mountains and swamp and bay still bloomed with life and energy and colorful culture, the canyon was a place of death and secrecy.

“I know you’re here.” Link said aloud to the air.

From beyond one of the tall pillars that lined the path toward the canyon, a shadow appeared.

“You came.” Sheik said quietly, joining Link on the steps. “What’s all that?”

Link nudged the bag that sat on the dirt in front of him with the toe of his boot.

“A gift from a friend who seemed to think I was going on a long trip.”

“Oh.” Sheik replied.

“Oh?”

Link raised an eyebrow. His friend had always been the silent type, but there was something different about him now. He sat at the edge of the stone with his knees against his chest, and chin resting on slender forearms, staring ahead into the darkness. The silhouette of the canyon rose above the horizon, stars glowing dimly above the jagged edge.

“What’s wrong, Sheik?”

He waited for an answer, and after the minutes stretched on, he accepted it probably wouldn’t come.

“I communed with the giants today. I asked them to show me what you did when you first came here—the trials you faced. I wanted to understand how life was like for you once you left…Hyrule. I visited the temples—“

“All of them?” Link interjected, surprised.

Sheik’s red eyes crinkled, and Link turned away, suddenly embarrassed as warmth flooded his chest.

“Yes all of them. I did not have to fight the way you did. I walk in the shadows, remember?”

Link glowered. “What did you find?”

Sheik unfolded, stretching his legs out in front of him. Link traced the graceful line that curved from his ankle to his narrow hips with his eyes. His friend was definitely thinner than the last time he saw him. Link remembered his words the night before: that after Zelda first discovered Hyrule was in trouble, she had sent Sheik away to search for him. Where had he been all that time? Were there other worlds besides Termina?

“I found that you are every bit the hero I once knew you to be. And now…I must ask you to be a hero once more. I am so sorry, Link.”

“You’re…sorry?”

Sheik lay back wearily on the stone steps, hands behind his veiled head.  Link resisted the urge to stare at him, stretched out under the Termina night sky.

 Despite their partnership in the past, he realized he really didn’t know the Sheikah at all. During their limited interactions, he’d always demonstrated an air of preparedness and vigilance, as if he could easily shift from playing a harp, to fighting off an ambush. This careless, open pose was new.

“Yes. I wish that my visit was that of a friend, and not a messenger of bad luck. It is not fair to you. You have fought so hard to earn a peaceful life. I am sorry that the fate of the world lies so heavily upon your shoulders. I would gladly take that burden from you if I could. I…” He paused, closing his eyes. “I understand if you do not want to return with me.”

“I’ve said my goodbyes” Link replied without hesitation. “I’m ready.”

Sheik sat up again, eyes filled with wonder.

“On one condition.”

“Of course, Hero.”

“Let me see your face again.”

Sheik glared, and Link immediately regretted asking. But to his surprise, the Sheikah sighed and tugged the veil down, pushing his hair aside so that his face was bare. Despite his obvious irritation, a small smile ghosted his lips. For a moment Link lost his train of thought, drinking in the sight of his friend’s exotic features, so far from the face of a Hylian. Again he felt confident that this was not Zelda, that the real truth had been revealed. He felt bad for asking Sheik to unveil himself, but he needed to know, needed to fully trust him before he followed him into Hyrule and took up his sword again.

“Right. Okay.” He said, drawing his focus back. “Now. I want you to tell me something.”

Sheik waited expectantly, unblinking.

“Tell me that I won’t be doing this alone. Not again.”

Tilting his head slightly, curiosity brushed Sheik’s features. After an agonizing minute of consideration he smirked, his cheeks dimpling, and nodded once.

“I will not abandon you, Link. I will stay by your side until the battle is won.”

Satisfied and a little light headed, Link grabbed his satchel and Cremia’s bag, and headed for the gate.

* * *

Having spent the whole day anticipating their meeting, Link hadn’t thought beyond his rejection or acceptance of Sheik’s request. According to the giant clock at the center of town it was already 10, and Link was far too tired to head straight for the forest. So once again he found himself sharing his room.

“I will sleep on the floor,” Sheik offered as Link dropped his bags on the small wooden table he’d built during his apprenticeship, before he’d taken over the shop from Mutoh.

“There’s only one blanket.”

“I have slept in worse conditions.”

Link frowned. He was exhausted, and he suspected the Sheikah was as well. There was no telling what they would face when they returned to Hyrule, and lack of sleep could be a death sentence.

“No…you take my bed. You can do that magic…thing…and make me fall asleep, right?”

Sheik chuckled.

“Yes, Hero, I can do that “magic thing”.”

Sheik insisted that Link take the blanket, arguing that even under the influence of a sleeping spell, his body could still become cold during the night.

The floor was hard and dusty, and even with the pillow Link was uncomfortable. He’d slept in forests and deserts and once on a stone bed in the Goron fort on Death Mountain. But after years of sleeping on a mattress, he found himself regretting relinquishing his bed to Sheik.

He grunted and turned on his side, the floorboards creaking under his body. The residual pain that lingered from his fighting years was gone, but his joints nonetheless protested.

For a few minutes he twisted and turned, attempting to find a comfortable position, until he felt the gaze of the Sheikah laying above him in the single bed.

“What?” Link spat, irritated, earning a merry laugh from Sheik that instantly warmed his insides.

_Damn that laugh._

Sheik reached down, long fingers lightly brushing Link’s hair away from his face, and pressing the center of his forehead. This time when the spell activated it was twice as strong, and he exhaled sharply with the intensity of it. He felt boneless and relaxed, as if he were floating in the ocean beneath a cloudless summer sky. The uncomfortable sensation of his joints on the hard wood melting away, he sighed and closed his eyes, allowed the magic to run hot through his veins, relaxing him into the depth of sleep.

* * *

  _The sky above was grey with clouds, punctuated with the occasional crackling strike of lightning. Thunder rolled across the field, an ill portent of the coming storm. Below, the world was on fire._

_He wheezed and gasped for breath, leaning on the hilt of his sword, fighting the cold ache in his lungs. Warm liquid dripped down the side of his left temple, drops of blood flooding his mouth. With a groan, Link stumbled across the scorched grass, searching. For what, or whom? His mind was sluggish from loss of blood, and he struggled to remember._

_“Link!” The weak voice called from somewhere in the smoky ruins of the Hyrule field outside Castle Town._

_“I’m coming.” Link’s throat was raw, barely a choked whisper. He wound his way around flaming piles that smelled distinctly of burning flesh. He stepped over a limp hand, a broken foot._

_Wind blew, momentarily clearing the smoke and revealing a figure crouching over one of the bodies on the blackened grass barely a few feet away. Link stopped, raising his sword._

_“Sheik? Is that you?” He whispered._

_The figure lurched, twisting around with a sickening creaking of bones. Charred flesh dripped from its mouth. Link squinted his eyes, trying to focus through the smoke as it became thick once more. With a gasp he stepped backward, tightening his grip on the sword. The creature was covered in blood and soot, but he recognized the blonde hair, and the pale rose coloring of the armor._

_Princess Zelda grinned, the flesh sliding from her rotten teeth. With a low growl she shuffled forward, still hunched over the ground, guiding herself with her hands. Her right ankle was severed, and she dragged her leg behind her. As she moved toward him, Link could now tell the identity of the corpse—red eyes staring unblinking at the sky, stomach torn open where Zelda had been feeding._

_“You did this.” Zelda growled, her voice broken and rasping. “You ruined us.”_

_Link backed away in horror, blood from his wound now mingling with sweat and streaming into his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find any words. Was this really his fault? Was all of this destruction caused by him?_

_Zelda was only feet away now. He should run, try to find someone who was still alive, or better yet slip away to the forest and back into the safety of Termina. As she crawled closer he could see that half of her cheek had been torn away revealing her rotten teeth. The ligaments in her face were severed so that her jaw hung low, bumping against her chest plate._

_Link wanted to run, wanted to forget, to go back, to play the Song of Time and return everything to how it was before. Wasn’t that what he was meant to do? He was the Hero of Time. He was fated by the goddesses to restore balance to the world. Why had this happened? Why had he failed?_

_“Please kill me.” Zelda hissed, reaching for his leg, the bones in her hand crackling and fractured. “Please, Link. Give me death. You owe me that.”_ She clawed at him helplessly, her tongue sliding out of the side of her mouth as she spoke so that her words were slurred.

_Tears streaming down his face, Link raised the sword, tip aimed downward, and plunged the blade into Zelda’s exposed back. The sword crunched through her armor and cut easily through her spine. Zelda groaned, twitching violently for several sickening moments, and then became still._

He woke screaming, drenched in sweat. He gasped for air, still feeling the scorch of smoke and fire and the stench of death flooding his senses. Shuddering uncontrollably he flailed, reaching blindly for his sword, but finding a warm body instead as Sheik slid from the bed to the floor.

“Link, it’s okay. It was only a dream.”

Sheik gathered him up in his arms like a broken doll and Link buried his face in the Sheikah’s chest, his breath coming in painful gasps. He clung tight, fingers digging into Sheik’s arms as he fought for air, gagging with the smell that wouldn’t leave. The image of Zelda crouched over Sheik’s lifeless body was burned into his eyelids.

It was only a dream.

But what if it wasn’t?

Sheik spoke to him in a low voice, whispering in his native language, breath warming Link’s neck. Slowly the hyperventilating subsided, leaving him trembling and silent as Sheik stroked his hair. If he were in a more clear presence of mind, Link might think about the implications of their closeness. But right now all he could focus on was dragging himself out of the dream space, shoving away the nightmare that had left him paralyzed with fear.

“I would ask what you have seen, but I think I know.” Sheik said after a while of sitting in silence.

“Is that what will happen in the end?”

 “The sickness? Yes.”

“Oh.”

Without further explanation Sheik gently moved away and helped him up, guiding him to the bed with a supportive arm around his waist. Link was too tired to argue. Sheik threw the blanket over both of them and Link drew as close to his friend as possible, focusing in on the familiar smell of sandalwood and sage. They lay like this in silence, Link shivering despite their shared heat, Sheik tracing the shell of his ear, brushing hair away from his face. It was closer than he’d ever been to another person.

“As I said before, I will understand if you do not want to return.”

Link blinked wearily; he’d been on the cusp of falling asleep once more. It was certainly tempting to stay here, safe in Termina. His sword had hung unused on the wall for years now, gathering dust on its blade, no more than a memento of the past. He’d hoped to never raise it again in battle. But he was the hero. His fate was inescapable. The horrible dream had left him quivering with doubt and fear—he _didn’t_ want to do this. But he knew his answer. He couldn’t abandon his people.

“I’m going. I’ll go.”

Sheik tightened his hold and sighed heavily, and Link wondered if he had truly expected that he would refuse to go. The thought saddened him, and strengthened his resolve even further. He remembered what Sheik looked like in his dream, body half consumed by whatever Zelda had become.

No. He may have been furious last night, angered by Sheik’s proposition. He’d worked hard to build a new life for himself, one founded on peace rather than battle and blood. But tonight there was only one thing he knew for certain. Regardless of the outcome, the Hero of Time was going to war.

Again.


	5. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheik is shy and Link is out of practice.

“I don’t understand. You’re…leaving?” Anju folded her hands over the glossy wooden surface of the Stock Pot Inn’s front desk and frowned at Link. “Where are you going?”

Link’s gaze trailed over to Sheik, who was leaning against the wall beside the desk with his arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to tell; Hyrule’s connection to Termina was not common knowledge. Sheik shrugged unhelpfully.

“I’m going home for a while. There are some things I need to take care of.”

Anju frowned.

“Will you be coming back?”

Would he be? He didn’t know the answer to that question himself. Link gripped the fretboard of Mikau’s guitar, not sure how to respond.

“I plan to.” He said finally. “But I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. Will you be able to hold my room? I can give you my guitar for collateral. I’m told it’s worth about 10,000 rupees.”

He held the guitar out to her and she took it gingerly, placing it behind the desk.

“I’m not worried about the room. I’m worried about…” her eyes drifted briefly to the silent figure nearby. “You. This is just very sudden. What about your shop?”

“I’ve spoken to Mutoh already. He and his sons are going to take over while I’m gone.”

“And the Indigo-Go’s?”

“Holding auditions next week.”

Out of arguments, Anju sighed.

“Well, you will be missed. Have you spoken to the girls?” Her expression grew stern, and Link wondered what exactly she and Romani talked about the other night.

“I visited them yesterday. They know.”

“I assure you I will bring Link back safely,” Sheik interjected, stepping away from the wall.

For such a reserved woman, Anju’s expression had all the venom of an angry Deku princess. But she tempered her anger quickly, shifting her attention back to Link with a sad smile.

“I see there’s nothing I can say to keep you. Very well, Link. I will hold your room and keep your guitar safe. Please take care of yourself and come back to us when you can, okay?”

Link offered his most heart-felt assurances, hoping she did not see through his façade. Once upon a time he was gifted the Triforce of Courage, a mark still burned into the back of his hand. But he didn’t feel courageous right now. As he promised his friend that he would return in one piece, all he could think of was his dream the night before, a glimpse into the coming destruction and chaos in Hyrule.

They spent the rest of the day gathering supplies. The vendors in Clock Town gave Sheik weary looks but said nothing about him (or to him), and eventually Sheik gave up trying to participate in conversation.

“The people here truly love you.” He told Link as they exited the post office. Although he rarely received mail, Link wanted to leave no loose ends. He asked the postman to hold his mail indefinitely, which had led to a heated interrogation over why he felt it necessary to leave Termina at all.

“Hm? Oh, I suppose.” Link said, shouldering his satchel, which was now filled with carefully packed potions, arrows, polish for his sword, and various other supplies. He’d bought a new scabbard and a new bow at the weapons shop, and at Sheik’s insistence, had gotten extra scraps from the fletcher so they could make new arrows once they arrived in Hyrule. Link grumbled and childishly argued that he hated archery and was fine with just his sword, but under the withering silence of the Sheikah, he grumpily made the purchase.

“You have made a home for yourself here.” Sheik continued as they made their way toward the center of town. “I will do everything I can to bring you back.”

Link laughed, spirits buoyed. He hated feeling unprepared, but with new supplies and his newly sharpened and polished sword secure around his hips, he was starting to think they may actually have a chance. He’d been through worse, right? With Sheik by his side, they would be fine. Right.

“I’m serious,” Sheik said, dropping his usual formality. “You’ve found something many warriors only dream of. It is not fair for me to take that from you.”

“Hey.” Link reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him. “This isn’t your fault. _I’m_ the one who played the song. I’m the one who started this. Me.” He remembered Zelda, and the little girl he dreamt of in the library of the spider house. They made it very clear that whatever fate had befallen Hyrule, he was to blame. “You aren’t taking me away from anything. I’m choosing this. Okay?”

Sheik blinked. With the cowl, his face was always difficult to read. But right now he almost looked…shy? His red eyes flickered downward to their joined hands. Broad daylight couldn’t do anything to hide the flush of Link’s own embarrassment as the Sheikah laced their fingers together and smiled.

“Alright, Hero. I trust you.”

“Right. Okay.” Link severed the connection and pushed open the door to the clock tower. “Let’s go.”

The tunnels below the town were inexplicably endless. Last time he was down here, he was so fixated on chasing the Skull Kid and reclaiming his things that he hadn’t paid much attention. Now he was overwhelmed by the twists and seemingly infinite pathways that met them at every turn. After what felt like hours, they found themselves in an underground forest.

“How is this even possible?” Link asked, running a gloved hand over the bark of a tall tree. There was no sky above, but no ceiling either. The air was close and his voice echoed as if they were in a cave, and yet the ground below them was grassy and soft and wet with dew.

Sheik sat down at the base of one of the trees and pulled out a water flask from his rucksack. Deftly, he tugged his cowl down below his chin to drink from the flask, wiping his mouth with the back of his slender wrist and pulling the cloth back over his nose when he was finished. Link tried to catch a glimpse of his face, but the Sheikah was infuriatingly swift in everything he did.

“This is an in-between place.” He explained, returning the flask to his bag. “They exist between worlds, joining them together, like the hallways of a house. Some are vast, empty chasms. Others, like this one, are smaller. Right now we are at the edge of the Lost Woods.”

Sitting together side by side beneath the canopy of trees, they shared bread and cheese from the pack that Cremia had given Link the day before. This time Sheik kept his cowl down below his chin, and Link resisted the impulse to stare openly at his friend, instead focusing his gaze on the tree ahead of them.

“Why do you wear that thing, Sheik?” He hadn’t meant to ask, but the words were out of his mouth before he could draw them back. In his peripheral vision, he watched Sheik brush his clothed hands free of crumbs and readjust the cowl.

“It is an old custom. Sheikah warriors hide their faces so their identities are not known. That way we may remain in the shadows of society. Faceless, nameless.”

“But I know you. I’ve seen your face.” _We’ve slept together_ , he wanted to say, but that didn’t seem appropriate for the current situation.

“All I have left of my people are their traditions. It may sound silly, but it makes me feel closer to them.”

“That’s not silly.”

A rustling of leaves, a low growl. The two friends were up on their feet instantly, swords drawn. They were not alone.

From behind tall bushes an enormous beast appeared, bared fangs dripping with drool onto the forest floor, its hackles raised in warning. Glowing yellow eyes shown like lanterns in the dark. Link raised his sword in preparation, and felt Sheik do the same.

“Wolfos. I hate these things.” Link muttered under his breath.

“Don’t they usually come in twos?” Sheik hissed in reply over his shoulder, tickling Link’s ear. “Where’s its mate?”

On cue another wolfos leapt into the small clearing, this one even larger than the first. The two beasts began circling them, low growls rumbling in their hollow chests.

“You had to say it.” Link complained, and received an elbow jab to the ribs in response.

A slow dance of anticipation commenced, each waiting for the other to strike first. The first wolfos was the bolder of the two, inching forward as it circled, eager but still wary of their weapons. Finally it ceased pacing and crouched low in the grass, and Link tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

As soon as the wolfos’ paws left the ground he lunged forward, aiming for the vulnerable underbelly. The creature yelped in pain as the metal pierced its abdomen and tore through vital organs, emerging from its narrow back. Wounded but still carried by the force of its leap, the wolfos lurched headfirst and snapped its jaws angrily. It found purchase on Link’s shoulder. Link cried out as teeth tore through muscle but the noise was cut short as the wolfos’ momentum slammed them both into the ground and knocked the wind out of him. The pain was blinding.

Link struggled desperately to get free from the beast, but with every attempt the dying wolfos’ jaws locked deeper into his shoulder. His sword arm was trapped, his wrist bent at an odd angle against his chest, the harsh sting telling him it might be broken. As he lost consciousness, the only thought echoing in his mind was how incredibly _humiliating_ it was to be taken down by a damn wolfos.

* * *

“Link? Wake up. Stay with me.”

The world came slowly into focus. He was lying on the ground in a…forest? And he _hurt_. Worse than he had in years. What the—

“Here, tip your head up. Drink this.”

Cold, bitter liquid flooded his mouth and he spluttered and coughed in protest, sending an unbearable ache through his right shoulder. Link groaned in agony.

“Don’t waste it, stupid! We only have so much.”

Link’s eyelids fluttered open and he squinted, trying to adjust his vision to the dim lighting of the forest. He was confused and hurting and angry and wanted to _strangle_ whoever was trying to force feed him. He tried to sit up but was pushed backwards once more, a flat hand against his bare chest.

“Where’s my sword?” He asked, tongue thick in his mouth and words blurring together. He tasted blood when he spoke. What in the name of Farore happened?

“In your scabbard where it belongs. Now please, Hero. _Drink.”_

Obediently he opened his mouth and drank from the glass bottle that was pressed to his lips. He understood the taste now. It was Termina’s awful brand of healing potion, made from bitter mushrooms harvested in the swamp, rather than the life giving red fruit and flowers Hyrule apothecaries used. He downed the bottle as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the awful taste, and lay his head back. It may be disgusting, but it worked fast. In minutes his body had begun to heal.

“Hey, Sheik.” He rasped once he’d gotten his bearings. The Sheikah smiled down at him, and he realized with faint embarrassment that he was lying in his friend’s lap. 

“It was easier to give you the potion and stop the bleeding at the same time this way.” Sheik said apologetically, guessing Link’s thoughts. “Should be okay to move now. Want me to sit you up?”

With some effort, Sheik helped him struggle into a sitting position against their tree. Across the clearing the two wolfos lay unmoving beside each other; their tongues hung limp from wide open jaws. The one Sheik killed appeared to have a broken neck, its head twisted at an unnatural angle.

“What happened to my shirt?”

Sheik gestured to his shoulder, which was wrapped in torn, bloody cloth.

“It was my favorite, too.” He tugged at the ruined fabric. His wrist still hurt, but the bones were strong and solid again, the fractures repaired by the potion.

 “You should be more careful.” Sheik said, settling in beside him.

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“Just barely. If I had not been here, you might be less so.”

Link rolled his shoulder to test the progress of the potion, and found that it still ached bad enough to make him feel like throwing up. He grunted, swallowing down bile.

“Are you alright?”

Sheik’s voice was filled with so much concern that Link couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“I’ve been through worse. Seriously, Sheik. I’m okay. I made a stupid mistake and now I have to deal with the consequences. Besides, my wrist is already pretty much healed. I’ll be fine.” He smiled and flexed his hand to demonstrate; the bones made a suspicious popping noise when twisted and his smile dissolved into a grimace.

 “You are ridiculous.” The Sheikah spat. “That creature was easily three times your size and weight. You nearly _died_. Maybe you have been through worse, but the point is that you made a fatal error that could have cost both our lives. You must be better than that. You—“

“It’s been years since I’ve even used a sword.” Link interrupted him, anger rising. Why was Sheik chiding him like an inexperienced student? “I get that you’re worried. But I’ve fought worse demons than a wolfos before, and made stupider mistakes. It happens.”

Sheik was silent for a long time, and Link could practically feel the annoyance radiating off of him. They sat quietly in the clearing and stared at the dead creatures while waiting for the potion to work. He had forgotten how surreal it was to experience the body’s natural healing processes sped up ten-fold. It made him feel nauseous and powerful all at once, his heart rate elevating as his body replenished lost blood, and the wounds themselves becoming white hot and painful.

Though Link wasn’t about to admit it, he knew Sheik’s anger was justified. Out of practice or no, it was unacceptable that he’d nearly gotten himself killed—especially when they hadn’t even reached Hyrule yet. They were barely out of Termina. He could argue in circles that he didn’t expect a wolfos to show up, that he hadn’t held a sword or fought a beast in years, or that he would have been fine without Sheik’s help. But the simple truth was that his miscalculation had cost them valuable time and medicine that they couldn’t afford to waste.

“I think I’m good enough to move on now.” Link tested his arm, rolling the shoulder and checking under the makeshift cloth bandage. The wound was still there, but the puncture marks were almost gone, and his muscle felt intact once more. A bloody looking bruise spread from his clavicle to his upper arm, sensitive to the touch, but worlds better than the mutilated flesh it had been hours before.  Link opened up his bag and pulled out another shirt, this one dark blue. With some effort he unraveled the bandage, discarded it, and redressed himself, choking back a groan when he tried to raise his arm above his head.

Wordlessly Sheik helped him finish pulling the long shirt on, tugging at the embroidered floral hem with an expression that Link read as amusement.

“Romani made it for me.” Link said defensively. “I like it.”

“Of course, Link. I said nothing.”

“You were thinking it.”

The two gathered up their things—Sheik insisted on taking the bag of food—and continued through the dimly lit forest, heading in no particular direction. Link kept pace behind the Sheikah, wondering often whether his friend actually knew where they were going or if he was just guessing. He was about to ask, when suddenly a bright light flashed just ahead of them, accompanied by a very familiar voice.

“Link!” Navi cried, circling their heads delightedly, her little hands clapping with excitement as she flew.

More fairies threaded through the trees, floating gently in the still air, watching as Navi inspected Link’s wounds and proceeded to tell both him and Sheik off for being reckless and clumsy.

She was as tiny as a moth and he could have easily swatted her away, but Link happily obliged his old friend’s paranoia, grinning as she pressed her tiny hands against his shoulder to speed up the healing. Almost instantly the dull ache that lingered went away, all evidence of the wolfos’ attack was gone.

“Oh I’m so glad you’re _here_!” Navi cheered, flying around Link’s head, hands clasped over her mouth as if she couldn’t believe he was real.

“Navi, shouldn’t we go back to the woods? This place makes me nervous.” A rose colored fairy called from among the spectators. “I’m sure the Hylian and his Sheikah are eager to get to their destination.”

Navi made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a raspberry at the other fairy. Link couldn’t contain his laughter, riding the high of fairy magic and his escape from death. Sheik didn’t seem at all amused. Grinning ear to ear Link punched him lightly on the arm, earning a vicious glare. Wordlessly Sheik shrugged him off and disappeared into the trees, waving aside fairies that blocked his path.

“What’s his problem?” Link said once he’d caught his breath. Navi flew once more around his head before landing lightly on his newly healed shoulder. Never one for personal boundaries, she tugged at the hem of his shirt and reached beneath, half disappearing under the blue cloth. Satisfied with the result of her efforts, she crawled back out and made a show of brushing off a space before laying down and gesturing for him to start walking. Link rolled his eyes and resituated his bag on his other shoulder and followed Sheik’s path through the trees.

“You have to understand,” Navi said around a broad yawn as they walked. “Sheik has been through a lot since you’ve been gone. We all have. I assume he told you what’s happened?”

“Ganon came back after I left, there are multiple realities, and I screwed them up. Yeah, he told me.”

The trees were becoming gradually less dense, and Link could see the glow of sunlight not far ahead. An unexpected thrill of anticipation coursed through him, and for the first time he realized that beyond the two wolfos, there had been no signs of life within the forest. Now he could hear the faint trickle of the river, and birds calling to each other from the treetops. Though the Hyrule forest was no longer his home and had not been for many years now, it reminded him of the days before he knew he was the Hero of Time, chosen by the goddesses to protect and defend the kingdom. Days when all he had to worry about was avoiding Mido and some of the other Kokiri’s antagonizing jabs at his lack of fairy.

Sheik was waiting for them just beyond the trees, sitting cross legged beside a clear pool of water, eyes closed and palms resting on his knees.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Link lingered at the edge of the in-between forest and watched Sheik from behind one of the trees, suddenly hesitant to approach him.

“It’s more complicated than I can explain, but in essence, people have begun to…change.” She hopped off of his shoulder and hovered in front of him, delicate wings fluttering around her small body.

“Change how?”

“Well…”

“Navi, change _how?”_

She made a little noise of frustration and spiraled upward in a corkscrew as she often did when nervous about something. Link leaned on the tree and waited for her to calm down.

“When you altered time in Termina, were people aware of what was happening?” She asked.

“No…”

“Well, they aren’t here either. Or they’re not supposed to. But…they’re starting to _remember_. _”_

“Remember what?” Link narrowed his eyes, a sick feeling of foreboding creeping over him.

“What happened to them before.  In Termina you were there to control what happened—every cycle of time was kept separate by the Song, and the people stayed oblivious. But here, the timlines are beginning to overlap. People who died during Ganon’s reign are remembering their deaths.  Fights and betrayals, lies told and secrets revealed. Even those who remember good things that happened to them are becoming confused and dissatisfied or worse, trying to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs.”

“Did something happen to him?”

Navi cast her gaze towards Sheik, sitting perfectly still beside the pond.

“I’m not sure. He wouldn’t tell me.”

With every step away from Termina, it seemed like there was a new development, a new complication revealed. Link gritted his teeth and ran a gloved hand through his hair, which was apparently matted with dried blood. With a heavy sigh he waved Navi onward and the two of them crossed over the divide between one world and the next, into an uncertain future.


	6. Homesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends and new problems.

Sheik was silent during the trek to Kokiri village. Twice Link attempted to strike up conversation, and both times he was met with no response. To his relief Navi filled the silence with endless chatter, asking him about Termina and Clock Town and everything he’d been doing since he left. Despite the interrogative nature of her questions, she actually did most of the talking.

After a few wrong turns, Link realized he no longer knew the way to the village and sheepishly asked Navi to lead the way. Sheik walked quietly beside him, eyes trained on the fairy as she weaved and bobbed in the air. The Sheikah seemed more lost in thought rather than angry now. He kept a tight hand on the dagger at his belt as they walked, as if he’d meant to draw it but forgot.

When they finally emerged from the wood and walked down to the village proper, the Kokiri were not pleased to see them. A few of the children waved shyly, but none of them approached. Link wasn’t sure whether it was because of him or Sheik or if they’d been forbidden from interacting, but he found that he didn’t mind all that much. His life here was over the moment he left.

“I’d ask if you wanted to see your old treehouse but…Mido lives there now.”

“That little shit.” Link said under his breath. Okay so maybe he minded a _bit._

Navi giggled in approval and flew high up in the air before diving, a trail of light shimmering behind her. Her dive was interrupted when the ground began to tremor violently. Navi squeaked and redirected herself, flying straight up in the sky and away from the shaking earth below.

“What the?!” Link pitched forward, arms stretched wide in an attempt to regain his balance. The entire village was in chaos; Kokiri children running for their homes, tripping over each other and themselves. Stones rattled and bounced against the rumbling earth and trees creaked and swayed. Even the sky seemed to vibrate, the fairies flying wildly in circles, clinging to each other for support as they dodged stray stones and clumps of dirt that were launched into the air. High above thunder rolled, and the previously cloudy sky was growing dark.

His feet planted firmly and knees bent, Link relaxed his body and moved with the constant quaking.

“Sheik where…Sheik?” Link spun around in search of his friend, only to find him collapsed on the ground, body contorted and rigid. His hands were clinched into fists against his forehead, the knuckles turning blueish white. His skin looked ashen and pale compared to its usual golden brown. The sound of his screaming was barely audible above the roar of shaking ground and the thunder overhead.

Link stumbled over to him and quickly lost his footing, landing hard on his side with a grunt. Rolling onto his stomach, he dragged himself over to where Sheik lay. His screams had become ragged, his voice hoarse with the strain on his vocal cords. Tentatively Link reached out to him, grabbing him by the shoulder. Sheik’s eyes flew open and Link drew back in surprise. His pupils were pinpricks, the red irises glowed like rubies.

“ _Get away from me”._ Sheik choked out.

“I’m not leaving you!” Link shouted at him. “What’s happening?”

Sheik groaned and closed his eyes again, drawing inward on himself, knees pressed to his elbows and shoulders heaving. The ground shook harder, jostling them both.  All around them the grass was beginning to separate, dirt cracking open to reveal dark chasms a few inches wide. The fractures were small, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get bigger. Link dragged himself closer to Sheik, prepared to keep him safe if those breaks became something more.

His head was beginning to ache with the force of the tremors. He’d experienced earthquakes before in the mountains, usually accompanied with flaming balls of lava raining down on him. That had been bad enough, but this was infinitely worse. The growing darkness of the rolling clouds made him think that this must be more than a shifting of the earth. Watching Sheik cower beside him, he knew with certainty that it had to be related to the broken timeline, though he couldn’t understand why. His thoughts had been jostled enough by the constant steam of new information over the past couple of days, and with the literal jostling of the ground, he felt like his head had been thrown into a barrel and rolled down a very steep and rocky hill.

Lightning crackled and sputtered above them. The air was thick with energy, and a loud _pop_ sounded as his own sword shocked him. Link yelped in surprise and clawed at his belt, trying to pull it off. He knew he should keep his sword close, but the sharp pain in his thigh was enough incentive to remove it.

Finally, the clouds burst open and freezing rain poured down on them. Link swore angrily and curled up to try and retain warmth, but the infernal shaking forced his limbs outward. He tried to pull himself into a kneeling position but was knocked flat once more, the force of the jolt wrenching his neck.

In his lifetime Link had battled giant lizards, shapeless beasts that swallowed you whole, flying plants with spinning razor blades attached to them—even a shadow version of _himself_. Those fights were challenging, but at least they were fights that could be won. Right now he was at the cruel mercy of the land itself, with no idea what was even happening. Not to mention Sheik seemed to be locked in some kind of horrifying dream; his desperate screaming hurt worse than the icy rain.

And then everything just…stopped. No warning, no prelude. One minute every goddess damned thing in Kokiri village was in chaos, and then the clouds pulled away and the ground ceased its quaking, and the sun shone once more. Link lay flat on his back, his entire body still buzzing.

“What the hell was _that_.” He said through gritted teeth as he waited for his vision to adjust.

Beside him, Sheik stirred. His voice was barely a whisper, strained from all of the screaming.

“It’s the rift. Timelines colliding.”

So his guess was right. Sheik looked completely exhausted. Tentatively he clamored up from the now steady ground and offered his friend a hand. The Sheikah grabbed onto him and Link helped him up, but as soon as he tried to take a step he gave a hoarse shout and started to fall again.

Link quickly wrapped an arm around his waist and slung Sheik’s arm over his shoulder.

“Are you still dizzy?”

“No,” Sheik grimaced. “It’s my ankle.”

“Is it broken? I can get one of the potions. The bag is around here somewhere.”

“No,” Sheik said again. “I am not wounded.”

“For Din’s sake Sheik, you can barely walk. You need medicine.”

The fairies were beginning to return, many of them having difficulty flying steadily, their paths forming colorful zig-zagging trails of light through the village. Navi landed on Link’s shoulder with an “oof”. She shook her head and sent shimmering magic everywhere.

“Can you check his ankle?” Link whispered to her and she glared, clearly irritated by having to fly again. She glided lethargically to the ground, bouncing on the soft grass. She took her time poking and prodding at Sheik, hopping over his boots and fluttering around the circumference of both feet. Finally she launched herself upward again and returned to her perch on Link’s shoulder.

“He’s fine.” She announced. “Don’t you remember what I told you earlier?”

“Earlier…” His confusion cleared when he thought back to their conversation in the forest. “Do you mean he broke his ankle in a different timeline…and he felt it in this one?”

She nodded sleepily, stretching her tiny arms above her head.

“Probably.”

Sheik made a little grunt of agreement, too tired to elaborate. His own head was lolling toward Link’s chest, and he seemed to be having difficulty keeping his eyes open.

“Well this is good.” Link muttered. “Barely half a day in and everyone is falling apart. Navi, is there somewhere Sheik can rest before we leave the village?”

“Deku Sprout’s glade.” Navi yawned and promptly fell asleep, snoring loudly.

Link rolled his eyes, nudged Sheik to wake him up and started moving in the direction of the glade.

By the time Link returned with their bags and his discarded sword, Sheik was passed out on the grass. It had taken forever to half guide, half carry him to the glade and Link himself was weary and aching. With Sheik sleeping restlessly beside him, Link sat before the Deku Sprout, legs stretched out in front of him as he took inventory of their supplies.

“You’ve grown.” The Deku Sprout observed, watching him sort through the food. Thank goddess Cremia had packed it all in a leather bag that was waterproofed. Everything was still dry.

“That tends to happen to Hylians.” Link said absentmindedly, unwrapping a block of cheese and taking a bite straight out of it. Lon Lon cheese was a meal in itself. “Hey Deku—“

“Eat with your mouth closed.”

Link glared and swallowed the cheese. The Deku Sprout grinned innocently and fluttered its leaves, looking more like an imp than a great guardian spirit of the forest.

“Navi mentioned that people are beginning to remember what happened to them in another reality… one where Ganon took over and destroyed everything.”

“Yes, that’s true.” The Deku Sprout tilted forward in what Link assumed was a gesture of affirmation.

“So…shouldn’t you and the fairies be affected as well?”

“Link, I’m disappointed in you. Of all people, you should know that the spirits of the forest are _ageless_. We exist outside of time, preservers of the delicate balance between the realms and protectors of the mortal beings which reside within them. We have lived so long, so many lives that this new rift exists as a mere drop in the waters of our knowledge. But for those who are still young the memory of other times, other realities that oppose and collide, is too great for them to comprehend. Mortals are not meant to remember their other lives.”

Link considered this as he ate his cheese and watched Sheik sleep. It was a lot to absorb. Alternate realities, other lives, nightmares that were memories rather than just dreams…yet again his understanding of the world was being skewed and bent. It made his head hurt. Well, his head _already_ hurt from the violent earthquake. Looking around the glade, he could see no evidence of anything out of the normal. No cracked earth, no overturned grass or toppled saplings. Everything was peaceful and quiet, as if the forest had already forgotten.

“What will happen?”

“If you fail?”

“Yeah.”

“Then the tremors will not stop. As the cycles of time continue to clash, the fabric of the realms, the very material from which the goddesses crafted the universe will fracture and break irreparably. After that, even I can’t know. Maybe they will start again, reshape reality and bring life back to a shattered world. But maybe not.”

It wasn’t reassuring information, but then nothing he’d heard recently had been. Link sighed as he folded up the rest of the cheese in its cloth and shoved it back into Cremia’s leather bag. He hurt, but he wasn’t tired. He was restless and ready to push on, to reach the castle so that he could speak with Zelda and get more answers. She would know what to do. She always did.

Cool wind blew through the glade, rustling leaves and blades of grass. Beside him Sheik shivered. He looked very like a child lying curled up on his side. Link felt the urge to reach out to him, to comfort him somehow, to promise him that everything would work out and that whatever horrible things he had had to relive in the village would not come to pass. Instead he simply watched him, studying the expansion of his ribs as he breathed, the slight twitch in his right shoulder, the tilt of his narrow hips and the tapering line of his spine. He was beautiful in a sad way. The last of his people, the sole heir to a name that no longer had any meaning. Link wondered why he didn’t see it before; this wasn’t a well-preserved, wise man with the confidence of a sage. Sheik had been dealt a fate just as bad—if not worse—than him. They were slaves to their destinies, the errand boys of the goddesses.

“Link?”

He recognized the voice immediately and before he’d even turned around he was scrambling to his feet.

Saria giggled as he ran toward her. He scooped her up in his arms and spun around, not caring if he looked foolish—a grown man and a little Kokiri girl embracing for the first time in years. The last time he’d seen her, she was still in the Sacred Realm.

“How is this possible? I don’t understand.” He said breathlessly as she hopped back to the ground.

The Kokiri girl ran tiny hands over her emerald green hair to smooth it once more and smiled up at him. Even though he was short for Hylian he felt immensely tall. Once upon a time they’d been the same height, back in his childhood when he thought he too was a Kokiri.

“After you defeated Ganon, Zelda sent you back to the time before I became the sage of the forest temple. I wish you had said goodbye to me before you went wandering.” She pouted, but couldn’t hold it for long. They stood there for a moment, grinning like forest imps at each other.

“Are you not the sage…?”

“No, I am! In the universe where you defeated Ganon, I am still in the Sacred Realm. But here in this world you prevented him from enacting his plans. Well…besides the Great Deku Tree’s death. That couldn’t be prevented, unfortunately. But that’s the way of things, and the Deku Sprout has taken good care of us these past years.”

She reached out shyly to take his hand and he allowed himself to be led through the crevasse in the stone wall that protected the glade. They walked hand in hand to the village, ignoring the stares and whispers of the other Kokiri children.

“All of this is very confusing.” Link admitted. “How can someone be in two places at once?”

Saria looked thoughtful, stooping to pick a flower from the ground and placing it under her headband.

“I think it works differently for other people—it’s easier for those who live outside of time like the Kokiri. I have dreams about a beautiful place that glows with magic, and I speak to the other sages sometimes. Mostly it’s just a feeling I carry around with me, like I’m not always _only_ here.” She released his hand and walked to the edge of the pond. Carefully she removed one shoe and stepped into the water, her other foot still in the grass.

“Do you see? I’m on land, but I’m in the water too! My feet are separate; one is dry and the other is wet, but I can feel _both_ of them. If I look away from the pond I only see the foot that’s dry and I can focus on the way the grass feels and the warmth of the sunshine through the trees. But no matter how much I pay attention to that feeling, my other foot is still wet and cold.”

She withdrew her foot from the pond, swishing it around in the water first to clean the soft mud from between her tiny toes.  Two of the Know-it-All brothers watched curiously from the other side of the pond, but gasped and ran away when they realized Link had noticed them.

“Don’t mind them.” Saria said, replacing her shoe and offering her hand again. “They’re not used to seeing big people. It’s weird to them that you’ve grown up. And…well.”

Link watched the two brothers peer at them from behind a stone.

“They blame me for what’s happening?” He guessed.

Saria gave his hand a tight squeeze and led him away from the water.

“They may be immortal, but they’re silly fools. Living here in the forest they’re protected from the rest of the world, so clashing timelines just mean a few bad dreams and hiding from the annoying tremors. They don’t understand much more than that. They don’t know all that you’ve done for them, Link. And anyways. _You’re_ not the one who broke time.”

Link stared at her, surprised.

“I’m not? But I played the Song of Time in Termina. Sheik said—“

“Sorry Link, I can’t tell you any more than that. All I know is that what’s happening here isn’t only the result of what you did in Termina. It’s much more…complicated. I doubt Sheik knows the full story either. Now come on! Let’s go shopping; you need more supplies before you go to Castle Town.”

She skipped ahead, yanking on his hand with surprising strength.

They returned to the glade a while later laden with red potion vials, a small wooden shield that would last him until he could get a better one in the town— _how could you come back without one?!—_ more arrows to placate Sheik’s archery obsession, and a leather bag full of Deku nuts.

Sheik was finally awake, and talking in hushed tones with the Deku Sprout. Link tried to listen in, but when he and Saria got close the two of them fell silent. Sighing, he decided not to ask.

“I come bearing supplies.” He dumped his haul on the grass, and Sheik began inspecting the arrows, turning them over in his bandaged hands, touching the pad of his finger to the wooden tips. The Kokiri were not metal workers, but they were masters at woodwork. It was where Link had learned the basics of carpentry, which had led him to his apprenticeship with Mutoh.

Link felt an unexpected surge of homesickness thinking about his carpentry shop back in Clock Town. It had become a sanctuary for him, an outlet for is nervous energy and a distraction from the nightmares that kept him awake at night. Impressed by his eagerness to learn, Mutoh had gladly handed him the keys to the shop after barely a year as his apprentice. Link split the profits with him—well, Mutoh received the majority of the money, but Link didn’t mind. It was the perfect arrangement; the old man could spend his days yelling at his sons as they screwed up construction and repair projects around town, and Link earned enough to pay for his living expenses, and a quiet job that kept him busy.

He wondered how the shop was running now. Hopefully Mutoh’s sons hadn’t broken anything, or damaged the custom vanity he’d been making for Romani.

“Link, did you hear me?”

Sheik’s voice cut through his daydream.

“Huh?”

The Sheikah raised a curious eyebrow.

“I asked if you were ready to go.”

_No, I’m not. I want to go home. I don’t want to be the hero. I want to go back to my shop and play the guitar in the evenings and eat dinner at Lon Lon Ranch and have a normal life._

“Yes. Yeah. Let’s go. We can get to Castle Town by nightfall if we leave now.”

Sheik held his gaze for several very long moments with that same curious expression, as if he were trying to understand, or to read his thoughts. _Goddess I hope not._ But he wouldn’t be surprised; the Sheikah had a long history of knowing things that were meant to be hidden.

They thanked the Deku Sprout for his hospitality. The guardian spirit of the forest wished them luck on their journey and advised them to make straight for the castle with no delay.

“Beware the lost children of the field,” He said gravely, rustling his leaves for effect. “They too are affected by these grave times.”

With that cryptic bit of advice, Link and Sheik left the glade.

Saria walked them to the bridge that led out of the village—the same bridge where long ago Link said his first farewell to her. It was bittersweet standing here with her again, holding her tiny hands in his. She was his first friend and for years, his only.

As he stooped down to hug her, a bright ball of light came barreling towards them both, crashing into Link’s head with an explosion of blue sparkles.

“You were going to leave without saying goodbye!” Navi cried, tugging hard on his hair with every word.


	7. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Link has too much fun fighting and Sheik sulks a lot.

Link wasn’t ready for what lay beyond the forest. Parched grass crunched beneath their boots, and everywhere the ground was broken in the same pattern of fissures that had appeared in the village. The air itself burned with the heat of the sun, and there was an unpleasant smell carried on the breeze. It faded quickly, but it was unquestionably similar to the stench that flooded his nightmare the other day. Link’s mouth fell open as he tried to process the transformation.

“The forest’s magic protects it from some of the destruction. I am not sure if it will last.” Without a backward glance Sheik brushed past him, limping slightly. His words were clipped and harsh.

“So what, is this how we are now?” Link closed the gap between them and cut straight into Sheik’s path. He was tired of the silence, of feeling like he’d insulted him somehow when in the past day all he’d done was sacrifice safety, home, and peace of mind to help him.  “What did I _do?_ Why are you angry?”

Sheik’ expression was one of genuine surprise. He halted, favoring the leg that still troubled him, and his red eyes burned with an unreadable emotion. For the thousandth time Link wished he would ditch the stupid cowl—it was unfair that Sheik could read every thought and passing feeling on his open face, while he was left guessing blindly what his friend was thinking.

“Link…I am not angry at you. I…” He looked away, gazing out over the ruined field. “It is difficult, being around you once more.”

“ _Then why did you ask me to come with you?”_ Link hissed through gritted teeth. “I’ve done everything you asked me to do. I nearly _died_ in the forest. I swore I wouldn’t fight again and I’ve broken that promise to myself because you insisted I was the only one who could fix _this_.“ He gestured vaguely at the field, the smoky mountains in the distance, the thirsty ground and too bright sky.

Sheik met his gaze once more.

“It kills me that I must be the one to steal you away from that life. I assure you, I would not have asked if I knew there was another way. I had wished that if we met again, it would be in friendship rather than war. Instead I have…I have broken you. And that is something I have to live with. _That_ is why it is difficult, being around you once more. And I—“ he paused, looking suddenly embarrassed. “I did not appreciate that fairy calling me your Sheikah.”

Dumbfounded, Link took a step backward and the heel of his boot made a _thunk_ sound against the root of one of the trees that shrouded the entrance to the Kokiri village. As he watched his friend blush scarlet, he was struck by how little he knew of him. After all, barely a day ago he still believed Sheik to be merely a disguise Zelda had used to protect herself from Ganon.

 “Why did that bother you?” 

Sheik sighed and looked very much like he regretted saying anything.

“My people served Hyrule for hundreds of years. We were loyal servants to the crown, guardians of sacred knowledge, and proud warriors who upheld an ancient vow to a dying goddess. Even in death we are eternally bound to the royal family. We were proud of our legacy, but that oath was both our honor and our curse. I was born to protect the princess, and I gladly embrace that duty. But I have never been free. I…am not my own. The words of that fairy were an unpleasant reminder.”

Before Link could think of a reply, Sheik shook his head.

“It is not your fault, Hero.” He said quietly. “It is not your burden.” And with that he pushed gently past Link and headed up the dusty, cracked road towards Castle Town.

* * *

 

As the sun reached its zenith in the bright sky and slipped past into afternoon and evening and the darkening violet of twilight, they realized they had misjudged how long it would take to reach the town.

When the call of the guard’s horn sounded they continued on their path, vigilant and wary. Sheik kept an arrow strung on his bow, and Link held a tight grip on the hilt of his sword, and together they walked in silence, two lone shadows beneath a growing moon. It wasn’t long after the sun had slipped fully below the horizon that they heard the sound of rattling bones.

“I hear one.” Link whispered, drawing his sword from its sheath and reaching behind him to grab the wooden shield that Navi made him buy. He’d never liked Kokiri shields, but it was better than nothing. Wordlessly Sheik nodded his head to their left, a glimmering arrow pointed toward a space on the ground where the earth was stirring. Nearby Link could hear the _clack clack_ of exposed bone as another Stalchild stumbled blindly toward them. With his sword and shield raised he shifted so that he was back to back with Sheik, and waited for the creature to approach.

He’d fought them hundreds of times. The fight was more familiar than with the Wolfos, a repetitive slash of sword through bone and blocking the pitiful swipe of clawed fingers as the Stalchild flailed and broke and died. How many had he taken down before? A thousand? Ten thousand? Link thrust his sword into an empty eyesocket, kicked at the knees of shaky legs, pressed hard with his boot to crush sternum and ribs. The sound of earth shifting, the giggling of the Stalchildren, and the swing of metal as it struck bone again and again filled the night air. He lost track of where Sheik was, but he could hear the _shlinck_ of well-aimed arrows not far away.

“Link.”  The Sheikah’s voice called from somewhere to his left. “We’re near the river.”

“So?” He knocked the skull off of a Stalchild and laughed as it tripped over the uneven ground.

“They do not like water.” An arrow pierced the skeleton’s spine and it stopped moving. Sheik appeared beside him, another arrow already strung.

Ignoring him, Link moved forward, striking here and cutting there, taking down the creatures before they had a chance to attack. Nothing mattered but blade and bone, bone and blade. The glide of his sword through the night air, the scorching heat of the day giving way to cold. His breath rose visibly in the moonlight, steady and measured.

“LINK.”

This stopped him. Narrowly avoiding the flailing swing of a Stalchild’s claws, Link shoved it away impatiently with his shield.

“What?”

“River. Come.”

Sheik didn’t wait for him to answer but instead slung his bow over his shoulder, pulled his dagger from his belt and stalked westward into the night.

Confused, Link followed him, swinging his sword halfheartedly at Stalchildren when they came near. He’d thought they had settled their differences earlier in the day, but he could practically feel the anger radiating off of the Sheikah as he moved quietly in the direction of the river. The closer they came to the water, the fewer Stalchildren emerged from the ground.

When he reached the river Sheik was kneeling at its edge and filling his canteen with fresh water.

“You’re angry again.” Link sheathed his sword and joined his friend, checking a large stone for wetness before sitting on it. His muscles ached from fighting, but it was a good kind of ache.

“I am not angry. I am concerned. There was no need to waste your energy like that. We could have easily made for the river but you kept fighting as if you were trapped in battle and forced to defend yourself or die. Those night walkers are hardly worth the effort.”

The Sheikah was so serious, his voice filled with such urgency, that Link couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m _fine_. It was fun.”

Sheik blinked up at him, puzzled.

“…Fun?”

“Yes, fun. Don’t you enjoy yourself when you fight?”

“I…” Sheik trailed off, struggling to answer. “Fighting is a way of life. I have trained most of my life. But I suppose it can be…satisfying?”

“There you go.” Link grinned at him. For the first time in ages he felt truly _alive_. The rush of adrenaline from cutting down the Stalchildren was familiar and exhilarating, transporting him back to his youth, before he had faced the demons of the Shadow Temple, the living dead, and Ganon himself. His muscles hummed with the release of nervous energy he hadn’t even known was there. Rolling the tension out of his neck and shoulders, Link re-sheathed his sword and discarded the leather belt on the cool grass. With a grunt he pushed himself up off the rock and approached the river, tugging his shirt over his head.

“What are you doing?” Sheik asked.

Link pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him. The cold air felt bracing and wonderful on his overheated skin. As he tugged his boots off he was vaguely aware of the Sheikah watching him, no doubt wondering why in Din’s name he was disrobing in the middle of the icy night. He kept his pants more for Sheik’s sake than his, though he also wasn’t confident the river was as safe as it was years ago.

Without hesitation he sat down at the edge of the riverbank and slipped into the water, holding tight to the brittle roots of grass that poked through uneven earth. He found that he could easily reach the bottom now, and the river’s flow was not as strong as it was when he last swam in it. Link tried not to think about the implications of that change, choosing instead to savor the moment. The water was even colder than the air. He dunked his head below the surface briefly and emerged laughing with joy.

Link was lost in the sheer intensity of it all—the cold water and the energy still burning in his blood. The horror of the past couple of days flew from his mind, replaced by something that was less conscious thought and more pure sensation. He’d experienced this before when he was fighting for Hyrule and Termina, the carnal passion and vitality of victory. And yes it was just Stalchildren, which were hardly a challenge, but the high overwhelmed him nonetheless.

“Link…”

The cautious voice surprised him; he’d forgotten about Sheik. Swimming leisurely back towards the river bank, he held onto the edge and smiled up at his friend.

“You okay?”

Sheik’s wide eyes were beautiful in the glow of moonlight. The earlier confusion had given way to something more like curiosity, but there was that same tension in his posture once more. He was uneasy, but why? Was he still worried about the fight earlier?

“Don’t worry, Sheik. We’re safe. The Stalchildren never come near the river. I used to swim here all the time when I was a kid. Seriously, we’re fine.”

Sheik tilted his head, studying Link with an intensity that made him feel suddenly warm despite the cold air.  Then icy wind blew over the river and the ragged fabric of his cowl was disturbed, the cloth slipping down over his nose. With a gasp Sheik turned, a hand automatically coming up to cover his face as he re-adjusted. The spell was broken. He rose from the edge of the river.

“Do you mind taking the first watch?”

“No, I’m not tired. Are you okay?”

Sheik bowed his head slightly.

“I am fine, Hero. Wake me when you would like to sleep.”

* * *

Link didn’t sleep. Eventually the high from the earlier fight calmed but he was not tired. Somewhat weary, definitely sore, but wide awake. He leaned against the rock beside the river and stared out over the moonlit field, thinking about the events of the past day and wondering what tomorrow would bring. It was difficult to comprehend that just two nights ago he was sitting on the stage in the Milk Bar tuning his guitar. Sorrow rose with the memory of talking to Romani. Would he ever see her and Cremia again?

Far across the field the dark silhouette of Hyrule’s Lon Lon Ranch rose against the night sky. Somewhere within those walls Epona was probably asleep in her stable, safe from the freezing cold. And Malon…

Unless she’d been experiencing memories from the reality where they had known each other, Malon wouldn’t recognize him if he visited the ranch. He tried to imagine her incomprehension and confusion, what she would say if he showed up and played Epona’s song—the song that Malon had taught him so long ago. From his satchel he pulled the the simple blue instrument that had caused so much trouble and chaos, and turned it over and over in his hands. He hadn’t played it in years. Raising it to his lips he closed his eyes and pressed his fingers over the ceramic holes, but held he held breath. He couldn’t.

A Stalchild ambled mindless in the distance and clawed at the empty air. Somewhere a bird called out. Link carefully wrapped the Ocarina back in its cloth and reclosed his satchel, pulling the cords tight. Earlier he had been caught up in the thrill of fighting, but now that the rush was ebbing away he just felt hollow. When he was living in Termina, the fact that he’d left a Hyrule that no longer remembered him seemed irrelevant. But now that he was back, surrounded by lands where he knew every inch and twig and stone and crevice, it was finally sinking in. This was his home, but he didn’t belong. Not anymore.

His mind wandered into the early hours of morning and he watched dawn break over the eastern mountain range that divided the field from Gerudo Valley and the desert beyond. Beside him Sheik stirred, mumbling in his sleep. Despite his height he looked small and fragile curled up in the grass, shivering slightly with the still cold winds that brushed the field. Link thought back to what he’d said earlier about being bound to the royal family in life and death. In some ways that was his lot as well. But it was different. He couldn’t change destiny, but at least he’d been able to make his own life in Termina—something Sheik would never experience in his service to Princess Zelda.

It hurt to know that if he visited Malon she wouldn’t recognize him. Nobody would, except for the sages. And yet what must it be like for Sheik? By the nature of his culture and his life’s duty he was born to be unknown, walking in the shadows. Guarding the Princess and the kingdom, but never a part of it himself.

It was a bittersweet comfort, he realized, to have a companion in loneliness.


	8. Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link learns a few things. Sheik blushes.

“Link...s’it morning?” Sheik rolled over in the grass and squinted against the light from the rising sun, nose wrinkling behind the cowl which had fallen lower during his sleep. His blonde hair was disheveled, his bangs plastered to the side of his face. Link chuckled as he grimaced away from the dull orange haze of morning and yawned inelegantly.

Link’s back ached from leaning against the stone that jutted up from beside the river all night. He was tired and would likely regret not sleeping, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

“Yep. If we leave soon we can reach the castle in an hour. The drawbridge should be lowered by then.”

Sheik grunted in assent, and then yawned again and arched his spine like a cat before rolling over once more and promptly falling back to sleep. Link let him sleep. After what happened yesterday in Kokiri Village during the earth tremors, when Sheik had been lost in some unknown nightmare, he deserved it.

Stretching out his limbs with an equally graceless yawn, Link rolled up from the ground and shook out the weariness of sitting too long in the same position. Though the sun was quickly warming the open field, frost still clung to the dried grass, giving it a glazed shimmer in the early light. It was almost beautiful. But it wouldn’t last. If yesterday was any indication of the severity of destruction Hyrule had weathered, today would almost certainly bring more unpleasant surprises.

As he waited for Sheik to wake again, Link pulled out the cheese he’d started eating in the Deku Sprout’s glade and unwrapped a fresh apple picked from the small orchard Romani and Cremia planted a few years ago. It was strange how everything in Termina had a faint bitterness in taste. Or maybe the food in Hyrule was just uncommonly sweet. He’d become accustomed to it during his years living there—all but the damned red potion Kotake and Koume were known for. It had struck him as faintly odd at first, but now he wondered whether the change was related to the fact that Termina was not only a neighboring kingdom to Hyrule, but another world entirely. The whole business of alternate worlds and conflicting realities still made his weary head spin.

The sun was well into the sky when Sheik at last groaned and opened his red eyes. Sleepily he wiped hair from his face and readjusted his cowl and the wrappings over his head and hands which had loosened in the night. Link gave him his privacy, walking over to the river and splashing cool water on his own face to try and feel more awake. Hopefully Zelda would have a place for them in the castle.

“Why did you not wake me last night?” Sheik demanded once he was fully awake and hurriedly gathering his weapons together. Link tossed him an apple and broke off a piece of bread. 

“Wasn’t tired. You should eat something.”

Sheik wrinkled his nose, but accepted the food anyways, turning away to eat. Link drew out his sword and rubbed a cloth over the blade, cleaning off the dust and debris left by the fight with the Stalchildren the night before. With embarrassment he recalled his manic behavior, and the late night icy swim. No wonder Sheik thought he was unstable. He should’ve had more control than that.

“We should leave now.” Sheik stood before him, rucksack, bow, and sword secure on his slender shoulders. “The drawbridge will be down by now, and the heat will soon become unbearable.”

Link grabbed his own weapons, strapping his own unused bow to his satchel. Maybe he would have a chance to sell it in Castle Town. But with Sheik’s watchful eye, probably not.

“Alright then, let’s go.” He offered a smile to his friend that turned into a massive yawn. Sheik glared at him, red eyes narrowed.

“You should have slept.”

“Probably. No point in arguing now though, is there?”

With an irritated huff Sheik shook his head and left the river’s edge, heading back towards the road. Link was beginning to suspect that mild annoyance was his natural state. Yesterday it had frustrated him, but today he found himself grinning at his friend’s back as he walked with purpose over the field.

They reached the drawbridge quickly, the sun barely passing noon. Already the air felt hot against their faces. It was nearly as scorching as Link remembered the desert to be, minus the sand. There were no guards stationed outside; they found them leaning against the ancient stone walls inside the gate, their helmets off and hair dripping with sweat. Link felt sorry for them—that armor couldn’t be comfortable.

“Friend or foe?” One of the guards asked, lazily picking up his spear. “State your purpose.”

“We have business at the castle.” Sheik said, and Link was surprised to hear no trace of his accent. He sounded like any other Hylian. “We’re merchants from Kakariko.”

The guard shrugged and waved them on, gesturing for his partner to help him raise the gate. Together they cranked the old wooden wheel, which protested loudly with every turn. The guards were breathless when the huge metal gate had finally reached its seat at the top of the stone arch; Sheik and Link moved quickly into the courtyard so that they could release it once more.

“You should prepare yourself.” Sheik said, voice quiet and lilting with his familiar accent again. “The town is not the one you remember.” Seeing Link’s expression, he rushed to add—“But not as Ganon left it either. Thank the goddesses.”

The courtyard itself showed signs of the earthquakes; many of the cobblestones were broken or dislodged, and the wrought iron gate that bordered the path was bent and broken in some places. Link took a deep breath and readied himself for what lay beyond. Despite Sheik’s assurances, he was reminded of the days when the town had been empty save for the living dead.

Emerging from the courtyard and making their way into the town proper, at first glance the market looked no different than it had when he was a child. Vendors were shouting their wares behind makeshift wooden stalls as townsfolk crowded around, jostling for the best products. Some of the wealthier citizens strolled by wearing their summer finery, a few of them carrying parasols to block the sun. A little boy laughed as he ran from his mother to chase a flock of sparrows. At the center of town people were gathering around a juggler and pipe player, cheering them on and tossing rupees into a hat at their feet. To all appearances as he gazed over the busy market, this was a town that was happy and healthy and making the best of a too-hot summer afternoon.

But as they wound their way through the crowd his impression gradually began to change. They passed a group of beggars sitting beneath the shade of an awning, dirty palms outstretched in a gesture of humble request. Friends laughed in small groups and shared jokes and gossip with broad grins that didn’t quite reach their nervous eyes. Just like in the courtyard the cobblestones were broken and uneven, and many of the familiar buildings showed signs of severe damage—windows broken, beams splitting. One shop appeared to have been destroyed by fire; its doorless threshold stood open and gaping.  He remembered it as the Happy Mask Shop, and with sudden unease remembered the strange man he’d met in the clock tower in Termina years ago. They couldn’t have been the same man…

“It is best if we do not linger,” Sheik said as Link paused to peek inside the charred remains of the shop. “We must reach the castle as soon as possible.

The crowd thinned as they drew closer to the dirt road that led up to the castle and without the cover of cobblestones, the severity of the damage was fully visible. Where previously there was solid, sandy earth, now the road had become a river of cracks and grooves. Dirt and grass from the low cliffs had broken off, adding further debris that had been haphazardly swept aside in attempt to clear the way. Link and Sheik stepped carefully around the larger of the cracks, inch wide dark chasms of unknowable depth. It was disturbing to wonder how far into the earth the fissures stretched.

Was the very world coming apart?

Even as he considered this disturbing thought he felt earth crumbling below his foot. Before he could react his boot had become lodged in one of the deep grooves.

A low laugh had him turning scarlet with humiliation as Sheik came back to help him, a clothed hand outstretched to offer support as he yanked his foot from the clutches of the broken road. Link glared at the Sheikah but had no choice but to take the hand that was offered. After that he followed the man closely, stepping only where he stepped. Even so, his walk to the main gate was colored by several more stumbles and close calls. Each time Sheik waited patiently, a smirk of amusement shining in his red eyes.

“You Hylians are very unsure on your feet.” He observed as Link hopped over a wide gap and nearly fell.

“You should’ve seen me in the Shadow Temple.” Link took the last few steps to the cobblestones beneath the shelter of the castle gate.  “I had boots that hovered. I make a graceful Zora, too.”

Sheik gave him a strange look but his words were cut off by the castle guard’s brusque greeting.

“The castle isn’t receiving visitors currently.” The tall man approached them, spear raised. Despite the overbearing heat he was in full uniform, his golden armor gleaming in the afternoon light.

“The Princess is expecting us.” Sheik’s accent was gone again, his voice taking the tone of a common Hylian, thought his bright red eyes and browned skin betrayed his lack of Hylian blood. The town guards either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared, but this guard had the posture of a well-trained soldier. His scrutinizing gaze passed between the two of them. He took in their general appearance and their weapons and his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What business do you have with her Majesty?”

Their previous cover as merchants from Kakariko was clearly not going to pass with this guard. But without hesitation Sheik offered another lie.

“We’re messengers from the North. We’ve been sent to provide a status update on the repairs the Princess has ordered for the villages in that region.”

The guard was not convinced. Striking the ground with his spear, he marched up to Sheik until there were barely inches between them.

“If you think I am going to let a pair of foreign rats past this gate, you are sorely mistaken.  Mercenaries, beggars, whatever you call yourselves, you’d be wise to leave before I am forced to remove you.”

In full armor the man was tall and imposing, but Sheik appeared unimpressed with this intimidation. With a placid expression, Sheik addressed the guard once more, an undercurrent of warning in his voice. This time he allowed his thick accent to come through, all pretenses dropped.

“You are welcome to ask her yourself. Inform her of our appearances and she will let us pass. Unless you also are barred from entering the castle, and that is why you guard the outermost gate.”

Enraged, the guard lifted his spear and drew back, prepared to strike Sheik down. But the Sheikah was too fast for him. With a single motion he stepped on the golden sabaton which covered the man’s left foot and shoved him, hands flat against the center of his breastplate. The guard cried out in surprise as he lost his balance, the spear landing with a clatter on the cobblestones. In desperation he grabbed at Sheik’s tunic in attempt to bring him down with him, but instead received a boot to the stomach that finished the job. His head struck the stones with a loud _clank_. Groaning, the guard yanked the helmet from his head.

“Now.” Sheik said, the sole of his boot against the man’s neck. The guard stared up at him, previous rage transformed into terror. “We are going to pass this gate. When we speak with the Princess, we will tell her that you did your job well. If you follow, I will personally remove your head from your shoulders.”

The guard nodded as well as he could with an angry Sheikah’s toe all but choking him.

Satisfied, Sheik gave a final push against the guard’s throat.

“Was that necessary?” Link asked as they walked towards the gate. Though they had fought twice together now, this was the first time he’d seen Sheik appear legitimately angry. And at a royal guard, no less. Though he had to agree the man was rude, was it wise to strike him down like that?

Sheik grabbed hold of the bronze lever built into the stone arch and threw his weight behind it. The heavy gate rose halfway but stopped at the midpoint; the structure had become unbalanced from the earthquakes, the top portion tilting slightly to the right. Link followed him beneath the gate.

“A royal guard of Hyrule should know better than to insult visitors from other regions. I did no less than what his own captain would—and possibly will—do. Turn right here. We are not taking the main road.”

Confused, Link kept pace with the Sheikah’s long strides as he headed towards a smaller path that led away from the road to the castle. He knew of course of the great fairy’s hidden temple nearby, but they passed by the entrance without stopping.

There were many smaller, winding paths that diverged from the main road, some of them natural passes through the surrounding cliffs, others manmade. In his few visits to the castle Link had never bothered to see where any of them led. As they walked, he was surprised to find that there were many clay hovels built directly into the walls; little doorways covered by ragged cloth and small windows that lacked glass panes. From another path he could hear the echo of whinnying horses and bleating goats. Every now and then a face peered from behind curtains or over the edge of a window.

Here too the effects of the earthquakes were seen. A few of the homes had been crushed, the dirt spilling out into the pathway. It chilled him to think of what happened to the inhabitants.

“These are the homes of Hyrule’s poor.” Sheik explained as they walked. “Those who were not welcome in Kakariko for lack of skill or health. Some are servants, others are orphans or the elderly. The forgotten people of Hyrule, kept close to the castle but far from society.”

A couple of children ran from one of the hovels, tossing a ball of clay between them. They were dressed in rags and looked underfed, but they laughed as they played, unkempt hair flying around dirty faces. They stopped abruptly when they saw Link and Sheik, their little mouths dropping open, the clay falling to the ground forgotten. The surprise quickly changed to glee, and both children ran toward Sheik with arms open. Both barely higher than his thighs, they hugged his legs and giggled happily.

“Brother brother!” They cried. Sheik laughed and picked one of them up, pulling down his cowl so that he could give her a kiss on her nose. She shrieked with laughter as he set her down.

“We thought you’d left us.” The other child said, lower lip pushed out in a pout. “Mother told us you wouldn’t be coming back.”

“You mustn’t tell anyone I was here, okay?” The Sheikah warned, and Link couldn’t help but stare at his uncovered face, the way his mouth formed each accented word. His red eyes sparkled with mirth as he smiled broadly down at the children. “I am here in secret.”

“To save Hyrule?” The boy shouted with excitement. 

“Who is he?” The little girl pointed to Link, head tilted in curiosity. “Is he your _lover_?” She grinned up at Sheik, her small hands clasped against her heart.

Sheik turned red with horror.

“N-no. He is here to help the Princess.” Sheik told them as he tugged his cowl back over his face.  “Now go and play, children and be careful of the sun. Remember, secret.”

The two held up index fingers to their lips in a show of silence, and Sheik patted their heads.

“Mind explaining to me what’s going on?” Link asked as they continued down the winding path.

“Zelda and I spent much time here in the past, taking care of the people.” Sheik bowed to an elderly woman with a toothless grin who gestured excitedly as they walked by.

“Why did they ask if I was your...you know.”

At first he didn’t think Sheik would answer, and he felt immensely foolish for asking the question.

“They are children, Hero.  They take pleasure out of embarrassing their elders.”

“Right. But—“

Without warning Sheik ducked into the doorway of one of the hovels, disappearing behind a scarlet rug that covered the entrance. Embroidered in thread a half shade darker was a familiar symbol—the open eye and teardrop of the Sheikah, crowned above with three simple triangles. Unsure what lay beyond, Link tentatively drew aside the carpet and followed his friend into the darkness. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. Blinking away the lingering flashes of sunlight from his vision, he realized that what he expected to be the interior of a tiny house was actually an expansive…tunnel?

“Hurry up, Hero.” Sheik called from somewhere ahead. There was a warm orange glow some twenty meters away that must be a lit torch. Link followed the light and shuffled his boots along the dirt floor. He’d been through enough passageways over his lifetime to be sufficiently paranoid. Most likely the dusty clay was solid, but he wasn’t about to go plummeting to his death by stepping off some unseen ledge. Sheik would never let him hear the end of it.

The glow of flickering light grew stronger, bouncing off rough cut earth. Wooden support beams lined the ceiling and walls—a few of them broken or splitting.

  
“Is it safe to be in here?” Link asked as he closed the distance between himself and Sheik. 

“This tunnel has survived for many centuries. It existed before the castle was built. It will hold.” The Sheikah’s bright eyes glowed eerily in the flame light from the torch he held.

“What is it?”  Link ran his palm over one of the beams. What he’d thought was splintering was actually lines of intricate symbols running the length of the wood. Some of the symbols looked similar to Hylian, but beyond the closeness he had never seen anything like it.

“Spells of reinforcement, protection, secrecy.” Sheik pointed to an image cut into the clay. It faintly resembled the figure of a winged woman, arms outstretched in supplication. “That is the goddess Hylia, who became a mortal woman. She is the first ancestor of the royal family. Zelda is her reincarnation.”

“Zelda is her…Zelda is a goddess?” Link stared in wonder at the ancient carving.

Sheik chuckled and moved away, carrying the torch and its light with him.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. She bears the soul of a goddess, but she is mortal. That is where her prophetic visions and her magical powers originate. My people are tasked with protecting Hylia in her mortal form. It has been our duty for hundreds of years. Or…it was. I am all that is left of that legacy.”

Sheik fell silent as they walked. The glow cast by the flame surrounded them in a small sphere of light, illuminating the passage in small increments. Ahead lay darkness and uncertainty. Link was reminded of ancient temple halls haunted by monsters, an endless maze of traps and illusions. Around them the shadows began to take shape—a shambling skeleton, a scaled lizard, the swinging lamp of a poe. He knew it was foolish. There was nothing but the two of them in the tunnel. But was that the clash of metal he heard? Or maybe it was the low growl of a dodongo…the chatter of skulltulas clinging to their webs, scaling the walls. The light bent and the shadows shifted. The air felt thick and harsh and the smell of death flooded his senses. He could hear it now, the distinctive sound of a wallmaster hovering above.

Link drew his sword.

“Hero? What are you doing?”

Why was Sheik just standing there? Didn’t he hear the clatter of dead fingers tapping on the ceiling? Link watched the ground, seeking out the warning shadow of the wallmaster, preparing to strike as soon as it landed, before it could reach one of them, before it could—

“Link, stop!” The Sheikah’s eyes were wide with concern. “Nothing is here. We are safe.”

_Nonononono._

“Get your sword out!” Link cried. “It’s coming.”

Sheik circled the tunnel, torch held upward. Shadows flashed and dove and flew around them. Link could hear the _tap tap tap_ of rotten fingernails clawing at the earth. Where was it?

There was a rustle behind him and he swung around, sword raised, ready to strike, ready to cut down anything that dared attack him. Where was Sheik? The air was growing more and more rank with the overpowering smell of rot and death. The orange glow shifted, spinning shadows on the engraved beams. Those symbols looked evil and malicious now—how had he not noticed the glaring eyes that stared at them from the worn wood? The faces that changed with the bending of light.

Something grabbed him by the shoulder and he cried out, striking blindly with his sword. But then his wrist was being twisted, the pain sharp and aching, the recently healed bones shattering again. The hilt of his sword fell from his open hand and he struggled, kicking out with his boots as he reached desperately for the bow strapped to his bag. Heavy pressure at his chest forced him backwards and he slammed into the earthen wall, the breath knocked from his lungs and his head struck hard on a wooden beam. The tunnel was dark now, the light from the torch diminished. Link fought weakly against the unseen assailant, gasping for air and more air, his head throbbing. He was going to pass out. He was going to die. He would die here in this stinking tunnel. And Sheik—

“Sheik?” His voice was raw. His throat hurt. Had he been shouting?

“Hush, Link. You’re okay.” Sheik’s voice was a calm whisper, his breath warm against Link’s neck. Slowly the world began to take form once more. It was Sheik’s hands encircling his wrists, pinning him against the wall. There was no monster. No wallmaster hovering above them. They were alone in the tunnel.

His head _hurt_. A wave of nausea had him groaning and shoving Sheik out of the way. He fell to his knees and retched, gagging on the lingering stench that had overwhelmed him. That too was an illusion, he knew. The air in the tunnel was close and stale, but it smelled of earth—not death.

When he had caught his breath and tamed his stomach he sat against the wall, utterly exhausted.

“You should have slept.” Sheik sat beside him and offered a vial of potion. Link tried to wave it away, but his wrist was most definitely broken again, and even in his current state he knew it would be stupid to let it go untreated. With a groan he downed the bitter potion in one gulp and passed the empty bottle back to Sheik. He felt foolish and weak, like a child rather than a hero.

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. I should have prepared you. I allowed my embarrassment to distract me.”

Their interaction with the teasing children seemed ages ago. It felt like they’d been in this passageway for days, even though it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours.

“I’m tired.” He said.

“You must not sleep. Your head is wounded.”

But he did anyways.


	9. Reunion

When he woke, he was no longer in the cave. Opening his eyes, Link groaned as the world spun around him. His head hurt, and he couldn’t quite remember where he was or what he’d been doing to land himself here. This couldn’t be his bed in Termina. It was too comfortable. The air smelled of lilacs and sage, and distant music was playing somewhere far off. Where…?

 

“He’s waking up!” A woman’s voice to his right, excited.

 

“The light is too much. Close the drapes.” A man’s heavily accented words, familiar.

 

There was a rustling of fabric as someone stood, and then the overly bright light dimmed. The pain in his head didn’t disappear, but it was tolerable. He should try to sit up, try to figure out what was going on. But every muscle and bone and nerve in his body ached. He recognized the dull hurt of older wounds that healed improperly, but the sharp sting in his wrist and the throbbing in his head was new. His sword hand. He must have been fighting and been shoved into a wall, or fallen to the ground? It wouldn’t be the first time. Link flexed his wrist. The bones weren’t broken. That was good at least.

 

“You should speak to him. It’ll be less confusing if he’s disoriented.”

 

The bed sunk beside him and the smell of sage grew stronger, mingled with other, indecipherable tones.

 

“Link, can you hear me?” A soft whisper, close.

 

Link felt his mouth open, his lips move, but no words came out. He was terribly thirsty.

 

“W…water?” He rasped. More shifting, and soon the cool edge of a glass was being tipped to his lips, and a firm hand was supporting his head. He grimaced at the contact, but drank the water greedily. When he was finished the warmth of the person beside him did not leave. Fingertips touched his forehead, brushing matted hair from his eyes.

 

“Sheik?”

 

“Yes, Link. Welcome back.”

 

Slowly images scrolled through his mind, disjointed at first but then broadening into a more clear picture. Saying goodbye to his friends in Termina, reuniting with Navi and Saria, the awful heat of the Hyrule sun, fighting the stalchildren in the field. The icy cold of the river. The disorder of Castle Town, the village of poor people hidden near the castle. A scarlet rug with an embroidered eye. A deep cave decorated with ancient symbols, and a fight…a wallmaster? No. His own mind playing tricks in the dark.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Do not be.”

 

Sheik’s voice was warm and reassuring. He remembered there was another person in the room—Zelda. He wasn’t ready for that one.

 

“I hurt all over.” He groaned.

 

“It seems hitting your head set back the effects of the magic I used in Termina. You have sustained an injury that will take more than potion and Sheikah spellwork to heal. But it is not grave. The Princess has a few theories she would like to try when you are ready. For now, you are safe.”

 

Link tried to nod, but the effort made his head spin again. He choked on the pain, tensing up against the fire that confused his thoughts and left him nauseated and weary.

 

“Would you like us to leave you?” Zelda asked from wherever she was, somewhere to his left. It was strange hearing her again after so many years. And in such informal circumstances. The regal grace of her voice was gone. It was like hearing Sheik drop his accent in front of the guards.

 

“No. It’s okay.”

 

_I’m afraid of getting lost in my mind again._

The vertigo had subsided once more, so he risked opening his eyes. The room was dark, but he could make out the intricate wooden posts and draped cloth of a four poster bed. His clothing felt different, linen rather than the cotton thread Romani’s shirt was made from, and when he moved there was the sound of silk blankets and sheets moving with him.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“In a secure wing of the castle. This room is attached to my own quarters. We felt secrecy was appropriate given the circumstances. Neither you nor Sheik are known in this world.”

 

This was mystifying news. Wasn’t Sheik a servant of Zelda’s? She made him sound as if he didn’t belong in the castle. Surely _someone_ knew of his existence, even if they didn’t know his face.

 

“What do you mean by Sheik not being known? I thought he lived here.”

 

In the darkness he sensed rather than saw the two of them sharing a significant look.

 

“That’s a conversation we can have later, among many other important things. Let’s focus on getting you back to normal again.”

 

“Which normal do you mean? The one where I’m living happily in Termina, or the one where I’m the slave boy to a goddess?”

 

He hadn’t meant to say it. Maybe the injury to his head affected more than just his sense of balance. But it wasn’t untrue. Learning in the cave that Zelda was the reincarnation of Hylia did not exactly increase his affection for her. He’d trusted her when he was a child. Besides convincing him that Sheik was not a real person, he was beginning to realize that he had been less of a confidant and friend, and more of a necessary tool she used to prevent Ganon from taking over.

 

A wave of anger rushed through him, the adrenaline lingering as a throbbing pulse in his head. He closed his eyes against the renewed pain.

 

“Did you tell him…?” Zelda’s voice was solemn and a bit sad.

 

“We passed the engraving of Hylia in the cave.” Sheik explained. “Should I have not?”

 

Zelda was silent for a moment, but sighed. She sat down at his other side and he could smell lilac and rose on her skin. The combined scent emanating from her and Sheik made him nauseous. Why did magical people insist on using so much damn perfume and incense? Was it a requirement for working magic? Great fairies were guilty of it too, not to mention Koume and Kotake.

 

“It’s alright. He deserves to know our history. It affects him as well, after all.”

 

“I am in the same room, you know.”

Zelda laughed. The sound was short and melodic and made him feel even more like a petulant child.

 

“I’m sorry, Link. Would you like to ask any questions?”

 

He thought for a moment. There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask. First and foremost, how in the name of the Deku Sprout’s roots was he supposed to prevent alternate realities from destroying one another? And for that matter why, if he was the Hero of Time, did playing the Ocarina screw things up?

 

“Am I…if you’re a reincarnation of Hylia. Am I a reincarnation as well?”

 

“You are, yes.”

 

“Is Sheik?”

 

Again, Zelda paused and Link sensed her communicating silently with Sheik. Could they read each other’s thoughts? He hated magicians. He hated always being the one who was given information only when the bearer of that wisdom deemed it necessary. It made him feel dumb and naïve.

 

“Not that I know of.” Sheik replied instead of Zelda. “Even if I were, my people are no longer living. I would be the last of that line.”

 

That was a sobering thought. So he and Zelda were bound together on some level and had been for who knows how long. He had been playing the same role over and over, and would continue to do so. But Sheik was merely a pawn, another player in an endless game. And that meant if Link died, regardless of whether he remembered those past lives or not, he would continue on. And Sheik would not. The memory of his dream came to him in an unbidden rush—Sheik lying lifeless on the ground as Zelda consumed his remains, an incarnation of a goddess reduced to that.

 

There were a million things he wanted to ask, a million details that were unsettling and even terrifying. He wanted to know _why_ he was stuck with this role. What cosmic joke trapped him in relative immortality, to be woken over and over and over as the hero responsible for saving the kingdom. And if Zelda unwittingly created a reality where he _died_ and Ganon won, no wonder time was breaking.

 

He wanted to understand, to be able to fathom the significance of it all, to fully process what it meant to be chosen for this life. Cursed. That’s the word that came to mind. He was cursed. But by whom? Zelda? Din, Farore, and Nayrue? Or maybe it was just a fluke, like the Skull Kid finding the Majora’s Mask.

 

“Oh.” He said instead, already having forgotten what his original question was. As his thoughts began to lose form and his mind became suffocated under the immensity of it all, the familiar feeling of Sheik’s fingertips pressed to his forehead brought him the temporary warmth of sleep.

 

 

When he woke again, the room was quiet, and the bone-deep pain had lessened somewhat. Fighting the groggy sludge of too much sleep, Link fought his way toward consciousness and opened his eyes. Soft filtered in through the drapes. He couldn’t tell what time of day it was…or even how many days he’d been sleeping. By the stiffness in his back it seemed like a long while. Groaning, he rubbed at his face and stretched his arms over his head, yawning magnificently.

 

“You’re awake.”

 

Startled, Link gasped and whacked his head on the ornately carved wooden headboard behind him. Flashes of blinding light accompanied the _thunk_. With a groan, he rolled over on his side, easing the pressure off of the still-sensitive wound. Through blurry vision he sought out the origin of the voice.

 

Sheik was seated nearby in an overlarge leather armchair, one foot tucked beneath him, clad in a simple tunic reminiscent of the body suit he once wore. He was smiling, red eyes sparkling with mirth.

 

“Shut up you…you don’t have your cowl.”

 

The Sheikah dropped his gaze and shifted, the smile fading. Compulsively he flicked a hand at messy white-blonde hair. Thin cloth still covered his skin, wrapped from his slender fingers upward, disappearing into the arms of his tunic. Link had assumed it was a part of his tradition, but maybe not?

 

“Zelda feels it is best if I do not draw further attention to myself. The…altercation with the guard did not impress her, and she has commanded us both to stay low until we can formulate a plan.” He looked thoroughly embarrassed. Link drank in the absence of the cowl, pleased by the novelty of seeing Sheik so uncomfortable. Maybe it was cruel, but after years of always being the one who was teased—by the Kokiri, by the Zoras and Gorons and Hylians… _everyone_ , it was gratifying to see that on another person.

 

Especially Sheik.

 

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Link said quietly, offering a smile. “I like seeing your face.”

 

His red eyes widened, and Sheik’s lips fell open in a surprised “oh”. Link recognized this as the same look he’d had back in Termina, when he’d grabbed his hand outside of the clock tower. That time Sheik had shyly laced their fingers together and promised his trust, and Link had pushed away. But now it was Sheik who broke the connection. With an abruptness that betrayed his anger, Sheik slipped off of the chair and crossed the room. The heavy door closed behind him, and Link was left in the darkness once more, wondering what he did wrong this time.


	10. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheik reveals an important truth.

“ As I see you standing there, holding the mythical Master Sword, you really do look like the legendary Hero of Time...”

When he first met Sheik, he had just emerged from 7 years of dreamless sleep in the Sacred Realm. Those years were an instant in his own perception. For him the space between entering the Temple of Time and drawing the Master Sword from its stone had been minutes, not years. 

But there he was, a fully grown man holding a sword crafted to rid the world of the greatest evils. From naïve child to the hero destined to save Hyrule and its people—what remained of them, anyways. The confusion he felt when he took his first steps in that new life, felt the changes in his body and the rush of magic that sent shivers up his spine, it was overwhelming. And then Sheik had appeared.

"I've been waiting for you, Hero of Time...”

He’d said the words as if he had been waiting patiently in the isolation and quiet of the temple. But now that Link was truly an adult, he understood this was not the case. Sheik had lived through those 7 years, had seen the horrors of Ganon’s reign. He’d watched the castle fall, its citizens die. From whatever secret place he and Zelda and Impa had run to, they had weathered 7 years of chaos and destruction while Link slept safely. For all the terrible things he’d experienced in his life he couldn’t imagine living through those days, forced to watch the land they’d grown up in become twisted and perish at the hands of a terrible monster, all because a sage believed their hero wasn’t old enough yet.

And what did that 7 years do? It transformed his body, but not his mind. He was no more ready to take on Ganon at 20 than he was at 13. If anything he was more terrified and less prepared. 

But through it all, Sheik had been there. To welcome him to a broken world with words of encouragement, to guide him through the temples, offering the knowledge he lacked and giving him the confidence he needed to complete his tasks. Link possessed the Triforce of Courage, but it was Sheik who gave him strength and led him to believe that he really was the Hero, and not just a foolhardy orphan from the forest. 

During those dark days Link had been so focused on waking the sages and defeating Ganon that he hadn’t even thought about what Sheik was dealing with. What he had seen. What obstacles he faced down in order to reach each temple safely, to impart a bit of wisdom and a magic song. 

How had he not seen it before?

But of course Link knew. Even though he was technically an adult, he’d only just started his quest. He was determined but foolish, willing to take up his duty but unsure what it all meant. 

And now…and now. He’d lived through Ganon’s reign and the Skull Kid’s. He’d fought through countless dungeons and temples filled with insurmountable challenges, destroyed demons ten times his size and strength. He’d worn the bodies of a Goron chief and a Zora who’d given his life trying to save his lover’s children. For over a year he had lived the same three days over and over, turning back time to prevent the moon from falling from the sky. All because a little imp found a cursed mask. 

There was blood on his hands, and death followed him everywhere, even now. Living as a carpenter he had worked hard to control it, to put the memories behind him. The nightmares still came but they had been fading slowly, replaced by the satisfaction his new life brought him. 

How furious he’d been when Sheik came to him that night and tore open that wound again. How much he resented him, forcing him to leave his sanctuary and return to Hyrule. 

At no point had he wondered what this must be like for Sheik. Another 7 years of waiting, watching the kingdom slowly fall to pieces and wondering whether or not the damned Hero would show.

No wonder he was angry. 

With a groan, Link hauled himself out of bed, holding onto one of the wooden bedposts for support. He was disheveled and hurting and the room spun a little at first, but he’d dealt with worse. 

Releasing the post, he took a few steps to test his balance. He waivered but didn’t fall.  
“Good enough,” He grunted, and made for the door.

The hallway was silent. His bare feet padded quietly over plush violet carpet as he walked, one hand against the smooth stone wall in case he fell. The faces of dead rulers stared down at him from realistic paintings set in gilded frames. There were no windows, instead the dark was alleviated by the faint glow of candles jutting out from the walls in golden sconces. 

As he walked, he began to wonder exactly where he was supposed to go. There were several doors, each of them a perfect copy of his own—massive oak with floral engravings. Zelda had told them to keep a low profile, which led him to think these rooms were empty. But which one was Sheik’s?

He was tempted to start calling the Sheikah’s name and deal with Zelda’s anger later, when he spotted an open door not far away. Heart beating, Link quickened his pace. His head throbbed uncomfortably with the increase of his heartrate, but he ignored it. 

The room was a mirror image of his own, down to the placement of the window where Sheik was standing. At first he appeared unmoving, one hand holding aside the thick velvet drapes, the other raised to his face. But upon closer examination Link could see that the man’s shoulders were shaking. 

“You…okay?” 

At Link’s voice Sheik jumped, hastily dropping the velvet cloth and spinning around, hand reaching for a dagger that was not there. When he saw who the visitor was he relaxed his fighting stance, but even in the dim light Link could see that he was still guarded, still prepared to fight. Link recognized that posture. It was the way he had been when Sheik first appeared in his room however many days ago.

“You should leave.” Sheik said, voice cracking.

“No. I just wanted to say I was sorry. I am sorry. I’ve been selfish and—“

With a guttural roar of frustration Sheik struck the wooden bed post with the palm of his hand. The wood made a creaking noise, but didn’t split. Link couldn’t imagine that demolishing royal furniture would go over well with an already irritable princess. Perhaps thinking the same thing Sheik turned away, his hands forming tight fists. He was still trembling with the force of whatever emotion had him so upset. Faint light struck his bare face, angular jaw clenched and eyes shut as if he were in severe pain.

Steeling himself with what little confidence he could find, Link marched into the room to stand directly before Sheik. The Sheikah remained silent, body rigid as he tried to contain himself. 

“If you hold it in like that you’ll eventually explode.” Link told him. 

Sheik’s eyes snapped open. His pupils were dilated. With what could only be described as a growl, he bared his teeth and lashed out, swinging his tightened fist toward Link’s chest. 

Link easily side-stepped the sloppy punch, grabbing Sheik’s forearm before he could retract and try some other stupid move. The Sheikah’s gaze snapped to Link’s hand. There was recognition his eyes; his expression softened and he sighed heavily. He’d been holding his breath. 

“It is too much.” Sheik whispered, sounding exhausted. 

Link kept his grip on his friend’s arm, less out of fear of retaliation and more because it appeared to have a grounding effect for him. 

“What’s too much? I can’t help unless you talk to me.”

The full-body shaking was subsiding, leaving only a faint tremor in his hands. His nostrils flared as he breathed steadily in through his nose, taking in the air he had previously lost. For the first time Link noticed the faintest dusting of freckles across his cheeks, the tapering of his angular jawline, the prominent arch of his mouth, which twitched nervously at one corner. Before his expressions were unreadable, now they were anything but. 

“I…need to tell you something. It might be best if you sit.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Concealing his own apprehension, Link released the Sheikah’s arm, and took a seat in the chair beside the bed. Sheik remained standing, crossing his bandaged arms, perhaps to hide the shaking of his hands as he spoke. 

“I’m listening.” 

“This will be difficult for you to hear.” Sheik said. “But you must wait until I am finished to ask questions.”

Link nodded, quelling a spike of anxiety that made his heart jump. Whatever Sheik had to tell him, it couldn’t be good.

For several moments Sheik was silent, breathing evenly, his gaze cast on the floor. In time he straightened his back and raised his head again. There was the calm, measured expression he had long ago when they first met. Suddenly Link wondered if it had been the same then—if Sheik had fought to appear collected and confident for their brief interactions, when truthfully he was a mess. 

“When I first came to you in Termina, I did not tell you the full truth. I admit I was concerned that if I said too much, you might refuse to come with me. But I also felt that burdening you with this secret would be unfair to you. I incorrectly believed it would not affect you in your quest. But I was mistaken.

Hero…Link, in the time before, I was your guide. Our meetings were brief, hardly long enough to establish any more than a vague bond of friendship through shared experience. We were both working toward the same goal—defeating Ganon. I felt unexpected sorrow with your absence. But I knew that it was an act of kindness that drove Zelda to her decision. A foolish choice on her behalf, but one born of compassion. But as you know, this manipulation disrupted the course of time, creating three parallel realities, each with a different outcome. One in which the kingdom fell but you defeated Ganon. One in which you failed, and Ganon was victorious. And this world, to which you returned to relive your childhood.”

He paused, his composure flickering between manufactured calm and nervous hesitation.

“I already know all this.” Link interjected. “Tell me what you actually want to say.”  
“I…” Sheik began, and his voice waivered. He took a shaky breath and looked away. “I died.”

“We all did, didn’t we? In the reality where Ganon won.”

“No. Well, yes. But that isn’t what I mean. I died in this world. After you left for Termina and Ganon returned. When I killed him, I died as well.”

Link stared at him, not comprehending. How could Sheik be dead if he was here? He wasn’t a ghost. Link had met enough of those to know that Sheik was very much alive. So…

“Zelda. She sent you back the way she sent me.”

It wasn’t a question. 

Sheik nodded slowly.

“Time follows a cycle rather than a straight line. But in this case you left an existence that was in some ways…ahead of this one. For that reason the earthquakes, the destruction happened much faster and with much more intensity. There was no question that it was magical in origin. Being full aware of what she had done, Zelda quickly recognized why the world was falling apart. Prophetic dreams and discussion with the sages confirmed her suspicion. You were not there to bring balance, so the only choice was to send me away…but in doing so, I had to forfeit my life. I entered this world at the very moment when I killed Ganon. By the natural order of things, this body should be dead.”

Unbidden, the vivid image of blank red eyes staring sightless at an overcast sky flashed through his mind. The smell of acid smoke and burning flesh choked him, and lingered faintly as he described his dream to Sheik, sparing no detail—even the death of Zelda by his own sword.

Sheik’s eyes widened as he spoke. 

“That must be the other reality. The one in which everyone perished and Ganon won. If Zelda knew, she did not tell me.”

“But the sickness? In Termina you guessed what I had dreamt.”

Sheik sat down on the bed, long hands gripping his knees and head bowed. He bit his lower lip as he thought. His face looked ashen and pale, the way it had in the village during the earthquake. 

“It happened in my time as well. Zelda and I somehow escaped it, but nearly everyone else fell. It’s not a normal illness, I think. Zelda believed it to be the effect of the time unravelling. People remembering their deaths, and their bodies reacting as if they had died. The hunger…that I don’t know. Some evil that we could not identify. I fear that is what will happen here too if we cannot restore balance.”

Despite the gravity of the new information, Link felt his anxiety fading, replaced by a familiar sense of purpose. He knew everything now, or if not everything, understood the reason behind Sheik’s odd behavior. It was concerning, and the idea of everyone in Hyrule turning into rabid undead monsters was not pleasant. But the problem was laid out, the truth as bare as Sheik’s uncovered face. 

And that meant it was time to find a solution. 

“Hey,” He said, reaching forward and tipping Sheik’s head up with the press of fingers below a pointed chin. A thrill of excitement buzzed in his chest that wasn’t unlike the high he felt from fighting the Stalchildren. But he would deal with that later. 

Surprise registered on the Sheikah’s face, and his eyes darted everywhere but to Link.

“No, look at me.” Link told him firmly. Reluctantly, Sheik met his gaze.

“You did your job. You brought me here. Now it’s my turn, okay? This is what I was made for. Who cares if there’s only one you left? There’s only one of me, too. We’ll figure this out.”

Only one of me. It sounded ridiculous when he said it out loud, and he laughed, which drew a bewildered expression of Sheik. 

“You will never stop surprising me, Hero.” Sheik said, and a faint smile tugged at his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! When I started this story last year I had no idea how it would be received, who would read it (if anyone), and what they would think. The comments I've gotten since posting the first chapter have been an amazing, wonderful surprise and I thank everyone who's taken the time to read and respond. I'm finally taking up work on the story again after a long hiatus, and though I can't promise a new chapter every week, I'll do my best to keep updating regularly. Thank you again for your feedback and support!


	11. Realms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link gets electrocuted, flirts with Sheik, and looks at a confusing map.

“Hold still, you dimwit.” Zelda slapped him lightly on the shoulder when he flinched. They’d been at this for hours, trying multiple methods—both magical and medicinal—to speed up the healing process of his head. Zelda had attempted to explain the reason why the red potion wasn’t fully effective—something about a blood-brain barrier—but she had given up after his third melodramatic yawn. 

“We wouldn’t have to do this at all if someone had been a little more careful tackling me to a cave wall.” Link shot a teasing glare across the room where Sheik was lounging on an ornate couch in the Princess’ personal study, watching them with silent interest. The Sheikah shrugged nonchalantly, but there was the shadow of a grin on his bare face. He’d been somber and quiet since his confession several days ago, but the overcharged tension and irritability were gone, thank the goddesses. 

“Alright. I think this should do the trick.” 

Without warning, lightning erupted around his head in a burst of white light. Link gritted his teeth against the searing pain that passed through his entire body, igniting every nerve. Lightning jumped in waves across strands of hair, making it stand on end. It was as if a thousand tiny needles were attacking him, in the junctions of his fingers and toes, across his face and chest. The fabric of his tunic clung to his body. He tried to focus, tried to distract himself, to grasp any stray thought that might alleviate the effect of Zelda’s magic. But there was only immense pressure, unbearable heat. 

It was over quickly, but not quick enough. Link gasped for air. His nerves tingled, itched. He rubbed his arms and legs, trying to calm the aftershocks. That was unpleasant.

“Well?” Zelda questioned as she ran her palms over her own messy golden hair. Tiny bolts of light popped and flashed wherever her hands moved. 

“You could have warned me.” Link growled, jaw still clenched tight. 

“And you would have flinched again.” She said as she drew out a small, cylindrical stick from the pocket of her rose colored trousers. With a flip of a switch a pinprick of light appeared at the end. Link was beginning to realize the princess had a proclivity for more than cryptic prophecies and annoyingly vague words of wisdom. Sheik had informed him earlier that she was well versed in the art of healing, but it seemed to Link that she was more interested in experimenting on him. How many of those potions and tools and arcane spells were actually necessary for fixing a lingering concussion? 

“Alright, hold still again.” Zelda told him, as if he had any choice. She placed a hand over his forehead, and with a flash of fear Link realized she was going to shine the light in his eyes. 

“What are you—“

“Shush.” 

Zelda bent forward, brow scrunched in concentration as she held the light stick inches away from his face. When he tried to blink she placed a finger on the top and bottom of his eye socket. 

“Stop squirming and look at the light.”

“It’s bright.”

“Relatively speaking, yes. It could be brighter, but I don’t want to blind you.”

“How thoughtful.”

From the general direction of the window Link heard a muffled laugh from Sheik. Thinking murderous thoughts about the princess and the Sheikah, Link bit down on his tongue and forced himself to look straight ahead as Zelda finished her examination.

Finally she flipped off the light stick once more and backed away, a triumphant smile on her tired face.

“Your pupils are dilating normally. How do you feel?”

Blind. He glared at her as he blinked away the after image of the bright light. It faded slowly and his vision adjusted. He raised a hand to touch the place where the wound had been, and was surprised to find it gone. The pressure in his skull had vanished as well. The fogginess, the vertigo, all vanished. For the past couple of days he’d felt like he was swimming through murky waters, everything distorted. Now everything was clear and steady—maybe better than even before the injury, if that were possible.

“What did you do to me?” Link asked, and found that his words came easier as well. 

“I used highly concentrated magic to reverse the effects of the concussion. If I did everything correctly, you may find that the remnants of older wounds have been alleviated as well. Unfortunately red potion can only do so much for a knock to the head, and I imagine you’ve had a lot of those…”

He was pretty sure she was insulting him, but Link was still marveling over this newfound clarity to care.

“Of course, there may be some side effects. I’m sure you’ll be okay. I was very careful.”

“Side effects?” Sheik echoed from the window. “Was it wise to experiment on our Hero with a spell that has never been used before?”

That got his attention. Link’s eyes widened and Zelda smiled sheepishly, pearly teeth glowing in the mid-day sunlight that streamed through the window. How could he have mistaken her for a benevolent and graceful princess when they first met? She was as bad as Sheik. Worse. 

“He’ll be alright.” She laughed. “I’m sure that shock was nothing compared to what he endured in the water temple so long ago. Or the belly Lord Jabu Jabu, for that matter.”

Link groaned in remembrance. 

“Now,” Zelda continued, her tone abruptly serious. “Assuming your head is cleared of its fog and you can walk without tumbling over, we should discuss our strategy.” 

The tone with which she said the word “strategy” held a conspiratorial air of mischief, as if they were children planning to sneak out of their parents’ house late at night rather than three weary adults facing the end of the world. With a wave of nausea, Link again recalled his dream—the promise of what was to come if they failed—and Sheik’s confession about the nature of his existence in this reality; that he’d been sent by Zelda from the timeline which he too had left years before after defeating Ganon, to step into this reality’s iteration of his own body on the moment of death. 

It was difficult, surreal to comprehend. When Link was sent back it was nothing so dramatic, just a sense of returning to his old body, that of the child who had never raised a sword or fought demons in the belly of ancient temples. But for Sheik it wasn’t the same. He didn’t return to a moment in his memory, to a body he had known and a time he’d lived through before. He was sent from one peril to another, from a shattering world to a dying body. 

Link had a thousand questions that he wanted to ask, but in truth he was afraid of the answers. Another wave of nausea doubled him over.

“Not on the carpet!” Zelda yelled, thrusting a clay pot into his hands. 

After the nausea had faded and Sheik sufficiently exhausted himself reprimanding the princess once more for experimenting with unused spells, they began discussing what to do next.

“The most important question, of course, is how to bring balance to this world and stop the effects of my idiotic actions.”

“Not idiotic,” Sheik said, gently touching her shoulder, his earlier anger assuaged. “Misguided, maybe. But that’s irrelevant now. Do you know of a way?”

Zelda retrieved a large book from her desk. She flipped toward the center, where a strip of cloth decorated with the family crest marked the page. She held it out so they could all see.

Spanning the two pages was an intricate map. The script was one that Link did not recognize, but Sheik’s eyes widened with recognition.

“It’s old Hyrulian,” Zelda explained. 

Link understood maps. He’d had no choice but to learn quickly how to use a rolled up piece of parchment to navigate his way through intricate temples in search of sacred relics. This map looked much the same as others he’d come across, with one major difference—near its center, contained in a neatly drawn circle, was an inky black spiral. It was moving. Link stared, transfixed, watching the slow spiral coil inward into itself, a constant path that made the flat plane of the page appear like a portal to another realm, rather than aged paper in a book.

“What is that?”

Zelda brushed his curious fingertips away from the spiral. 

“That is our salvation. I hope, anyways. The map represents a temple—one of the old temples, built before Hyrule was founded. It lies beneath the castle.”

“This castle?” 

“Yes, dummy, what other castle would it be?”

Link glared at her, but she ignored him as she continued her explanation. 

“Its center is…well I’m not sure what it is. A doorway maybe, or a shield, or clock; the text doesn’t specify. But it does say that the object has the power to realign the cloth of time and mend breaks in reality. I never really understood it when I was young. I asked Impa and she said all she knew was that the Sheikah believed it to have been made by the god of twilight.”

Sheik swore under his breath, a word Link had never heard before. He hadn’t ever considered that Hyrulian might not be Sheik’s only language. The thought made him feel a pang of sadness—what must it be like to have no one with whom you could speak your mother tongue?

“Who’s the god of twilight?” Link asked.

Zelda shifted uneasily and set the book aside, resting it on the large desk behind her.

“This is something you’ve never had to know before, and which until recently I’d only briefly learned about during my education with Impa. You know of the existence of other realms that are parallel to our own—you’ve been to one, even.”

“The sacred realm?” 

“Yes, exactly. There are others, some which are known to us and others, only hinted at in the old lore. I won’t bore you with a lecture about the theories and correspondences of the different realms or the stories written about them because we don’t have time, and I suspect you’d lose interest within the first few minutes.”

It took Link a moment to realize he was being insulted. He blinked, confused by the amused curve of Sheik’s mouth, and Zelda’s own impish grin.   
“I hit my head.” Link argued, sulkily.

“Your mind is better engaged by the ancient mysteries of hidden temples and the use of sacred tools to perish evil and return light to the world,” Sheik replied. Link looked away, feeling confused warmth rise to his cheeks—both from Zelda’s teasing and the Sheikah’s gentle reassurance. 

“Right. Anyways, if you two are done flirting…”

“We’re not!” Sheik and Link both shouted simultaneously. Their joined voices echoed off the ceiling of the princess’s office, and she shushed them, pale finger to her lips.

“As I was saying,” She continued, ignoring their mutual embarrassment. “The twilight realm is one of these places that exists outside of our own world. From what little I’ve been able to learn, it seems that the realm functions as Hyrule’s shadow. A land of darkness and deep magic that may have even existed before our world came into existence. You two know it as the void that Ganon was banished to by the version of me that unwisely sent you back in time, thus creating this reality.”

This was not a pleasant thought.

“Does that mean…” Sheik hesitated, as if he knew but did not want to hear the answer to his question. “That Ganon is there, in the realm of twilight?”

Zelda was quiet. Gaze unfocused, she stood from her simple oak chair and walked to the window that looked out on the courtyard—the same hidden garden where she and Link first met so long ago.

“Yes, I suspect he is. He’s dead here thanks to Sheik, but it’s possible—likely—that the original Ganon, the one who was defeated on the castle tower and banished away, lives in Hyrule’s shadow. But hopefully, we won’t have to find out. If you both can find the artefact hidden below the castle and discover what and how its power works, I don’t see any reason why you’d have to actually travel into twilight. Still…” She turned, her hands clasped tightly together, betraying the anxiety she was trying to hide. “We’ll want to make sure you’re properly outfitted and armed in case you run into trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a confession to make: 
> 
> I've had this chapter written for a while, and the beginning of the next. Between moving to a new state and catching up with work, I've slacked off a bit, but better late than never! 
> 
> As always, your support is amazing and wonderful and feeds my inspiration. <3


End file.
